


Beyond the Path

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: RWBY
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Fairy Tale Style, Fairy Tales, Found Family, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 35,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9456818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: Ozpin has lived deep in the forests of Patch for many, many years now... long enough that anyone who might have heard of the 'Great and Powerful Oz' have long since passed to dust. And that was exactly as he liked it.However, when two young, rambunctious sisters unexpectedly show up on his doorstep, Ozpin must re-evaluate everything he knows, particularly when it comes to family.(A combined, re-imagining of "The Four Maidens" and Yang's venture into the woods as a child.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! 
> 
> Everyone enjoying the latest volume? I hope so~ 
> 
> A recent re-watch of RWBY gave me the idea for this AU, which I'm very excited to explore with you all. I have a basic outline in my head for this, but a number of details will emerge along the way. So I'll be sure to update the tags if any themes, warnings, or pairings should show up down the road. 
> 
> Until then, enjoy Chapter One! <3

“How much farther, Yang?”

 

“If you keep asking me that I’m gonna take the scenic route.”

 

Ruby huffed, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk and arms crossed petulantly. Yang didn’t know why she was complaining though. She was the one who got to ride in the wagon.

 

Even so, Yang bit her lip hard and pushed down on the desire to admit that she didn’t have the faintest idea how much further they had to go. It wasn’t like anyone had given her a road map. Or hell, even a general direction to go in. Ancient and abused photographs weren’t exactly the best for giving directions.

 

Still, she straightened and planted her feet more firmly—ignoring how her shoes sank even deeper into the mud. Yang had a pair of studier boots back at home and she’d have worn them if she’d remembered that it had rained so hard two nights ago. Her thick coat and gloves were in the closet too and though it wasn’t freezing by any means, they would have been welcome on this chilly autumn eve. She should have brought food other than their snack crackers and water bottles. She should have brought Ruby a blanket. Yang continued to bite her lip until it bled and recalled a hundred more things she could’ve and should’ve done.

 

Well. No turning back now.

 

“—Yang!”

 

Ruby of course, her voice pitched high in the way that told her she’d tried to grab her sister’s attention more than once. Right at the last second—but still too late—Yang spotted the deep crevice in the forest’s floor, the bed of mushy, decaying leaves giving way under her weight and throwing her off balance. With a small shriek Yang toppled and her hold on the wagon’s handle caused it to tip too. She landed hard on an old log as she heard Ruby giving out a similar cry of pain.

 

Yang was back on her feet in seconds, eyes wide and horrified.

 

“ _Ruby!_ Are you—?”

 

“Fine,” her little sister groaned. “Ow...” Ruby cautiously moved her legs, arms, and then hissed as she found the abrasion on her left wrist. She just poked at it though, trying to wipe some of the grime away on her already filthy white pants. Her red cloak was miraculously clean in comparison, but Ruby still glared at the new smears of mud she found on the hem.

 

“That’s your fault!" she said, before immediately casting her eyes downward when Yang flinched. “... but it’s okay.”

 

“No,” Yang sighed. “It’s not. C’mere.”

 

The fight went out of both of them, having built up from too much frustration and too little reward, not real anger. Yang crawled forward and pulled the ribbons from her pigtails, making a slopping ‘bandage’ for Ruby’s wrist. The rest of her water was used to get the stains out of her cloak before they could set.

 

And yes, that was absolutely the best use for their last reserves.

 

By the time she was finished her little sis was beaming once more, seated back in her wagon and staring up adoringly at Yang.

 

“Onwards?” she asked, all bounce and cheeky grin.

 

“You bet, rosebud.”

 

“Onwards!”

 

So Yang began putting one foot in front of another again, as she’d been doing for... how many hours now? No, how many _days_? Just one, right? They’d left early in the afternoon when Dad had finally gone out to the market, stumbling through the night, sleeping the next morning, and now here it was, nearly dusk again. So more than a day—as Yang’s stomach kindly reminded her. Nothing for it though. She could talk all she wanted about fearing Dad’s wrath when they got back (it was the first time he and Uncle Qrow had left them alone and Yang just knew she’d get a ‘we’re disappointed’ speech, at the very least), but the truth of the matter was she wasn’t sure she could find home again even if she wanted to. Yang knew the forest, sure, but not the forest this _deep_.

 

She was well and truly lost.

 

Yang drew in a breath. Her legs felt like lead, making it harder and harder to conquer each step. She was hungry, thirsty, tired, and it felt like she’d pulled something in her back during that fall. All Yang could do though was keep moving forward. That was her motto after all... and it was the only choice she had.

 

“We’re getting close, Ruby,” she said and hoped so hard that it was true.

 

Ruby nodded behind her. “k’, can I see it again?”

 

“…Yeah.”

 

Careful with her dirty fingers, Yang reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the folded photograph. She didn’t need to look at it again. She’d already memorized it in the two days since she’d found it. The picture was a picture of her mom.

 

Well, almost.

 

Ruby’s mom was there on the left, recognizable mostly by the white cloak that covered her head. It was a quirk of hers, Dad had told them once, Summer picking up such antiquated fashion seemingly out of the blue. Maybe she’d kept it up just to spite them, or maybe she’d actually really liked the look... either way, Ruby hadn’t needed to explain her own obsession. She’d taken one look at her mom and demanded a cloak of her own, this one red as the roses they planted every year round her grave. Ruby had hardly taken it off since then.

 

Dad was beside Summer, looking more boyish and carefree than Yang could have ever imagined him. Uncle Qrow was on the far right, brandishing a large stick like some sort of weapon, his own smug look identical to what they’d grown up with, minus a few lines around his cheeks. And between them...

 

Yang almost did want to look again, if only to make completely, _utterly_ sure that she hadn’t missed something. Because the woman had the sort of build that Yang was already starting to see in her own shoulders and stomach; she wore the red coat that was still stuffed in a box in their attic; and her hair had that same bushy, wildness that Yang had given up taming every morning... but her face was completely obscured.

 

It just wasn’t there. The fingerprints, cup rims, and other identifiable stains were bad enough, but it looked as if, during some particularly bad night, someone had taken a lighter to the picture and deliberately set her mom’s face aflame.

 

Yang ground her teeth. She couldn’t _believe_ them. And this was all she had now. A clue that wasn’t even a clue: the forest behind them in the picture, trees growing so tall and thick that they eclipsed her dad and uncle, positively dwarfing her moms. Yang realized it wasn’t much to go on... it wasn’t really anything at all... but maybe, just maybe, she’d find something out here today. The mere fact that her mom had once walked this same path made her feel like she was on some sort of track...

 

“Do you think they’ll be mad?”

 

Ruby was staring at her now, hesitantly offering the photo back, and it took Yang a moment to realize she wasn’t talking about it anymore. Dad and Uncle Qrow. Oh yes. They’d be furious. But only at Yang. Ruby was the innocent in all this and Yang would make sure that everyone knew it.

 

She smiled. “Nah, Rosebud. Everything is going to be a-oh—Ruby?”

 

Ruby was still staring wide-eyed, but now it was _past_ Yang, pupils blown up at something directly behind her. Yang whipped her head back, half expecting to see some horrible beast about to gobble them up, claws and fangs poised to strike but—

 

“Wow,” she breathed instead, a _real_ spark of hope lighting up within her.

 

Ruby was out of the wagon, stumbling on tired legs to get at Yang’s side. She reached out, twining their hands together and giving a hard squeeze.

 

“Hey, sis?” she murmured, all quiet and thoughtful. “What’s a cottage doing way out here?”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Ozpin took milk from his fridge and poured it into the pan, setting the heat on his stove to just below medium. As that was cooking a chocolate bar appeared in his hand, quickly chopped into pieces so fine they were nearly dust. He pulled vanilla extract from a drawer and set the homemade whipped cream aside, ready and waiting. After a moment’s thought, Ozpin pulled out some sprinkles too.

 

He wasn’t sure why, but it felt like a night to indulge.

 

It didn’t take long. His little ritual never did. Eleven to sixteen minutes, depending on his own movements and where exactly he was summoning from. Oh, Ozpin never took much. Never more than one solitary man needed, and he was always careful to repay his sellers, even if it was in ways they might not expect. A man at market might wonder why he suddenly had nine cartons of milk rather than ten, but he’d wonder more about the origins of the gold ring he’d find at the bottom of his egg basket, surprisingly bright, polished, and perfectly fit for his fiancés finger. Indeed, a young maid selling chocolates might also wonder at their absence, but she’d quickly forget such questions when the tailor down the road suddenly had extra cloth to sell and an uncharacteristic desire to give it to her cheap. It was a balancing act that the people of Patch would never understand, but hopefully appreciated.

 

There were some - had they known the goings on within Ozpin’s little cottage - that would say his form of bartering was heavily tipped in one direction. Fine cloth for a bit of chocolate? Gold for common servings of milk? They would tell him straight out, if they could, that this was quite an unfair trade. For him.

 

They would be wrong, of course. These people kept him alive and they deserved all the riches for it.

 

After all, life was far more than he deserved. 

 

He sighed, quiet and under his breath despite there being no one to hear. Old habits died hard after all. Very hard. The woods provided him with no more company than that found in the birds, insects, and the occasional fox, and Ozpin hadn’t seen another person in... oh. He couldn’t even say how many years anymore. All he knew for certain was that he’d been indulging in this routine since before the chocolate had become so sweet. Before the trees outside his humble home had grown large enough to shade his window. He had his mug—another humble object with only the word ‘Beacon’ on it in curling script—and it was so old that it was held together now only by his magic.

 

“Routines keep us grounded,” Ozpin murmured in the silence, recalling advice from long past. “They keep us connected to the world when there is nothing left to hold us.”

 

He didn’t feel terribly connected though. Not anymore.

 

And that was truly for the best.

 

The milk was bubbling now. Not enough to create the tar-like scent and texture Ozpin had acquired when he’d first started learning this routine, but just a soft shimmer that meant it was warm and ready. He poured in the chocolate, sweetener, and within moments it was all melted together. Pouring the concoction into his mug and dotting it with cream was as familiar as the sunset.

 

Speaking of... Ozpin wandered to the window, taking a moment to appreciate the fading light. The days were growing colder, though his garden remained vibrant as ever. It changed no more than he did. Neither did the cottage itself. His books and other necessities. The only thing that did change was the forest, ever shifting slightly to embody new life, cycling through seasons with a determination he couldn’t help but appreciate. Despite his earlier, melancholy thoughts, Ozpin couldn't’ help but smile out at the scenery. He wondered what nature had in store for him today. A visiting owl? Perhaps another storm on the horizon?

 

Two young, human girls?

 

Ozpin blinked, then froze, the sound refusing to make sense to him for one long, horrifying moment. So long in fact that when he did come back to himself it had grown darker and the voices were louder—more distinct. They were _closer_.

 

He drew in a sharp breath, finding that his hand was so tight around the handle of his mug that it was very near to cracking. Slowly and deliberately, Ozpin loosened his fist, setting the precious artifact on the windowsill. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Then another. Ozpin's drink slowly went cold and the cream dissolved away.

 

“What’s a cottage doing way out here?” the voice asked, soft and oh so young. They were the first words Ozpin had heard distinctly. The first in generations. He’d imagined what it might feel like, during the longer winter nights, but he’d never anticipated the thrill that shot through his chest and branched out into his limbs. It was like lightening whizzing down his spine: jolting and dangerous.

 

Thrilling too.

 

Ozpin had moved closer to the window before he’d quite realized what he was doing, hip pressed hard against the sill and shaking fingers lifting to brush back the curtain. He saw them then, mere shadows arching out from the trees—but growing clearer every moment. One looked to be no more than nine or so, with a mane of matted, golden hair, like a last bit of sun shining out before dusk. The other was even younger, so small that Ozpin felt his breath catch at her appearance.

 

How was anyone that young? Had he been...once?

 

“—not a candy house,” the older girl was saying. Ozpin could see now the twisted smile on her face, trying to so hard to joke and be brave in this moment. The two girls instinctually linked hands and he was able now to catch some of their details: the small cuts and smears of mud that spoke of a long journey; the way one limped slightly as if in pain; the ribbons braided around the other’s wrist; the close, tender intimacy that told him they were sisters.

 

The younger one held heavily onto her sister’s arm. “Ugh I _wish_ , I’m so hungry. Maybe whoever lives here can give us something to eat? Or point us towards home?”

 

Something tightened in Ozpin’s stomach. Oddly, it was a lot like hunger.

 

The elder sister furrowed her brow. “Doubt it, Rubes. I don’t think anyone’s lived her for a long, long time.”

 

And all at once Ozpin relaxed. The charm. Of course. So long alone and already he was forgetting his own precautions. There was no reason why that bit of magic shouldn’t have held up through the years, and indeed, the two little girls were looking upon his home now with a healthy amount of befuddlement. No doubt they were seeing a broken down, rickety building with vines crawling up the sides; a barren garden still parched despite the rain; the only sign of life a skittish rat that flew across his floorboards. Or something to that effect. Ozpin knew that each child would picture her own idea of ‘deserted.’ Their details might vary, but the result was still the same.

 

Ozpin let out a breath then, running his hand over his eyes and admitting, if only to himself, how overwrought he suddenly felt. He wouldn’t have imagined that these two, simple girls would have caused such a rush of emotion... but then, he hadn’t seen anyone since the War.

 

Then, carefully, Ozpin encouraged himself to smile. Safe in his security he took another peek out of the window and drank in the sight of them. It was an indulgence to be sure, but one Ozpin didn’t see any harm in enjoying, taking note of the girls’ strange clothes and the bright spark of life in their eyes. He assuredly didn’t deserve this glimpse of the world he’d left...but Ozpin would still take it. He was selfish, and they were _astoundingly_ cute.

 

He had committed their faces to memory—two bright spots of light to carry him through the next passage of time—and was deciding on what bit of magic would be best to guide them back home when the youngest stepped forward.

 

“What are you talking about, Yang?” she said. “This house is so _pretty_.”

 

Ozpin froze.

 

The little girl kept inching closer though, right up to his doorstep, and in the back of his mind Ozpin noted her next words about catching sight of someone moving the curtain, but however was he meant to focus on that? Certainly not now that she was so close, nearly right beside him, and Ozpin could now see her eyes.

 

They were silver eyes.

 

“Oh dear,” he murmured.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and kudos so far! I'm slowly plugging away at this story. Had a nice block of time for writing today. AKA I was trapped on two flights and there was literally nothing else to do. So this is the result :)

 

Ruby was born two years after Yang and as soon as she was old enough to understand the concept of other people, she realized that her little sis was nothing like them. At all.

 

She wasn’t just a sister. Or a daughter. Or a niece. Pint-sized or not, Ruby seemed too big for labels and the second you gave her one she was shedding it in favor of five more. At her core she was a hyperactive bundle of possibilities, as likely to make you laugh as gasp in fear (“ _Get off the roof!_ ”). At the same time Ruby had a light inside her that made everyone around her smile, even if they thought they’d long forgotten how. Every stranger was a friend waiting to be found, and enemies were a foreign concept, to the extent that Dad and Uncle Qrow used to worry that someone Bad would just walk off with Ruby, leading her astray with sweets and the promise of kindness. Sometimes they still worried. Yang did too. It was why she kept a tight hold on her little sis whenever she could. Dad said that when Ruby first came home Yang had slipped two fingers into her tiny palm, the both of them squealing in delight as Ruby held on. She couldn’t remember that of course, but she still wasn’t planning to let go.

 

Yang marched forward and caught Ruby’s hand in hers.

 

“You’re nuts,” she announced, but even then the words didn’t hold much conviction. Not as much as they should anyway. “This place looks worse than the treehouse Dad tried to build us that one time. Remember? He got the shingles all messed up and the planks were splitting. And there was no _floor_.”

 

Ruby’s face briefly lit up in a massive smile. “We had to walk on the supportive beams and I fell and my finger got all—” she made a complicated motion with her hands, miming something mangled. “Dad was so sad... I miss Dad.” Her face fell again, like she had, once. “But this place isn’t like that, Yang. Look how pretty it is! The walls even have ivy...” and Ruby reached an arm up to tug at a strand, pulling it closer as evidence. The leaf was cold and waxy between her fingers.

 

Yang stared. “ _Dead_ ivy you mean.”

 

“Uh...no?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“No!”

 

“Yes, Rubes. Are you messing with me?”

 

“I’m not.” Ruby slammed her boot down in frustration, twisting her cloak between her hands. “You’re just being mean now. I’m hungry and tired and I’m gonna ask the person inside if they can help us get home. We can look for your mom again later, okay?”

 

A pang shot through Yang; a reminder of why they were out here in the first place. Before she could counter that though—they had to find mom, they had to—Ruby was rapping lightly on the partially unhinged door, rocking back and forth like she actually expected someone to open it.

 

Yang crossed her arms. “You really are messing with me, huh?”

 

“You’re messing with me!”

 

“Nu uh! Or you’re dehydrated, or—you’ve got an infection!” she pointed fiercely at Ruby’s wrist. There were tiny dots of blood staining Yang’s ribbons and all at once she didn’t want to think about the possibility that Ruby might actually be ill; imagining things through a fever, because if she was then that was _all Yang’s fault_.

 

Something hot and awful was crawling up Yang’s throat when Ruby started pounding on the door instead. Loudly.

 

“Excuse me!” she called. “Mr.! Or M’am! Or neither! My idiot sister got us lost and I really want to know what that weathervane is!”

 

Yang’s eyebrows crawled up into her hair. She lifted her head—grimacing as the movement sent an awful twinge through her lower back—but she could only see a drooping, twisted bit of metal barely hanging onto the roof. No wonder Ruby couldn’t tell what it was. It wasn’t anything.

 

“Maybe they’re scared of us,” Ruby murmured, dropping her hand back to her side.

 

Yang didn’t know why Ruby’s imaginary friend would be scared of two kids, but she gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze anyway.

 

“C’mon,” she begged. “You can go back in the wagon, k? We’ll find something else up ahead. I _know_ we will.”

 

She didn’t, but Yang would sooner cut her hair than scare Ruby with an admission like that.

 

“Rubes?”

 

“...alright.” She didn't sound happy about it, but Ruby did turn. 

 

They were tottering back to their meager supplies, fully intending to continue on when a soft, tilting voice sounded behind them.

 

“The weathervane is called a grimm.”

 

Yang froze, feeling Ruby doing the same beside her. They whirled as one and Yang's mouth dropped open at the sheer weirdness of what she was seeing.

 

The cottage was still old and decrepit, looking like it might fall to dust any moment, but the unhinged door _had_ opened, somehow still hanging there even though Yang was sure it went against every kind of natural law she’d learned about from Dad’s books. You know, like gravity and such. Even that didn’t hold her attention for more than a second though because there was a man standing in the doorway and he was _weirder_.

 

At least, Yang assumed he was a man. There was an androgynous air to him that made Yang hesitate—the trim waist, delicate complexion, fair white hair grown out nearly to his shoulders—but his otherwise sturdy frame and voice convinced her. To say nothing of the suit. Yang didn’t know what she might have expected to find in this run-down place, but a guy in a green three-piece wasn’t it.

 

He leaned against the doorway with a deceptively casual air. She knew because Uncle Qrow did the same thing whenever he wanted to intimidate a whole group. The guy had a mug in one hand and he took a long sip, wincing at the taste. Oh, he worked hard to cover it up, but Yang saw that too. Her eyes narrowed.

 

“Hello,” he said when the silence stretched too long.

 

“Hi!” Ruby tripped over her own feet in an attempt to get closer. Yang’s grip on her hand held her back. “It’s super great to meet you, I like your hair, and also what’s a grimm?”

 

Yang nearly shut her eyes. Friends with everyone. Right.

 

The man though... he blinked rapidly a moment, the briefest look of shock passing over his face—before he covered that up too. Yang didn’t trust anyone who could school their features like that. Uncle Qrow had taught her that as well. Not intentionally, but in a drunken ramble one night when Yang had snuck down for a late night glass of milk. “Don’t trust anyone like me, firecracker,” he’d slurred and Yang had wanted to cry because what did that say about _him_?

 

Still, she also noticed the way the man lifted a hand to the tips of his hair. Like no one had ever paid him a compliment before.

 

“We’re a little turned around,” Yang ventured. It didn’t look like the guy knew how to respond to Ruby anyway. Alright then. She'd start with a tiny bit of truth. “We’re just looking to get home. Can you point us towards the market? The seaside one?”

 

The man stared at her, then down into his mug, considering. “We’re a very long way from the sea,” he finally murmured.

 

Yang knew that. It was a trek even from their house, how she’d known Dad wouldn’t notice them gone until it was far too late. If this guy gave them directions that even sounded vaguely right, Yang might just be willing to take them. And yet... she curled her toes and bit at her lip because they weren’t suppose to go home yet. She’d promised to find her mom and she _would_ —

 

—but she had to keep Ruby safe too.

 

Ruby, who was tugging at Yang’s jacket and making some not so subtle pleas that they go inside.

 

“I like this guy,” she hissed.

 

 _We don’t even know this guy!_ Yang wanted to shout back. She settled for a glare.

 

The man seemed to come to a decision.

 

He straightened, using his mug to point at the approaching clouds. “I can get you back home, but it’s not safe to travel in one of these storms. Please. Won’t you join me for the night?”

 

The invitation felt heavy, laden in a way Yang couldn’t explain. There were so many reasons why she should grab Ruby and run far, far away, and they didn’t even touch on the face that she didn’t see how this beaten down cottage was going to protect them from the rain. And yet...

 

The man seemed seemed as hesitant about inviting them as Yang felt about accepting it, and somehow that counted for a lot.

 

Ruby was staring up at her imploringly. Yang gave her a bop on the head. “Alright.”

 

“Alright!” Ruby echoed. She charged forward, tripping on her cloak this time and kicking up dust every which way. The man turned sharply when she reached the doorway, as if terrified that she’d do something as simple as touch him. Yang was reminded of Ruby’s odd theory. _Maybe he’s scared of us_.

 

“Thanks, Mr.” Ruby said. “Ooooooo.” She stuck just her head inside, looking right to left. “I love your kitchen—and the fireplace!”

 

The man softened. Yang saw it happen like chocolate melting in the sun. He even smiled. “Why thank you.”

 

Yang, meanwhile, stared at a rotting window and had the distinct impression that she was missing something.

 

The man beckoned her though. “Come along. Oh, and I’m Ozpin by the way.”

 

Ozpin.

 

This time the small smile was for her and Yang, reluctantly, moved forward. 

 

***

 

Miles out from the girls a man crashed through the underbrush, bringing chaos to the otherwise peaceful forest. There was a storm at his back and a desperate sheen to his eyes.

 

He hesitated, fists clenched as he willed his feet to move faster. They couldn’t, of course. _Dammit_.

 

“I’m coming, kids,” he promised and with a final jolt of deliberation the man was gone.

 

A swift crow flew across the treetops instead.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers! This chapter ended up being a little longer than I expected. Hopefully that helps make up for the wait~

It was disconcerting. In the best way possible.

 

“Oh no,” Ozpin said, and it was a statement of fact rather than any actual exclamation. He made sure to keep it low though, under his breath so that his guests ( _guests_ ) wouldn’t hear. The problem was quite insignificant in the grand scheme of things—even within his simple existence—yet it seemed to briefly consume him, twisting up Ozpin’s gut in a thoroughly unpleasant manner.

 

He had one mug and three people wanting drinks.

 

Well... two, anyway. The third might well view his offering as poison.

 

Ozpin smiled. Just a small one, but oh how it shone. He made a decision then, turning to rinse out his one mug while the two girls chatted at his table. And wasn’t that just extraordinary? Their presence, yes, but also their age—still young enough to be on this side of naive. As if he couldn’t hear them.

 

“He’s sketchy!” the eldest (Yang, he believed) was saying, her head bent so low her blonde hair nearly touched Ruby’s red and black strands. When she shook out a negative they nearly collided, forehead to forehead.

 

“ _You’re_ sketchy,” was the sophisticated response. “You’re just upset that you’re the one who’s sick!”

 

There was another window above Ozpin’s sink and as he grounded himself with warm water and soap he looked up, the night now dark enough to reflect the fireplace across the room—and the blurred ovals that were the girls’ faces. He didn’t need details to catch the fearful look that flit across Yang’s face. And oh, how Ozpin wished it hadn’t come to that. She’d seen the inhabitable cabin, exactly as she was meant to, but with an invitation from him and a silver-eyed sister, Ozpin obviously couldn’t have kept the glamour up for long. He’d dropped it the moment Yang crossed his threshold ( _sudden and heady—that magic held steady for years—now rushing back to him—like regaining full use of an absent limb—_ ) and Ozpin had watched as she’d teetered, quite unaccustomed to her mind playing tricks on her. 

 

Ozpin’s fingers tightened on the _BEA_ of ‘Beacon.’ This right here was exactly why he’d left. A small mistake, but not to young Yang. Ozpin wasn’t in the business of forcing kids to question their own reality.

 

...except that apparently he was.

 

“I know what I saw,” Yang seethed and Ozpin’s chest swelled at that fiery conviction. Yes. Let the child question things. Let her be arrogant even, if it helped her through this world. Still. He could summon two more mugs with ease for their dinner, but perhaps more magic wasn’t what they needed right now.

 

He’d really prefer that these children see him as ‘sketchy.’ It was a far step up from ‘powerful.’

 

So Ozpin kept to his small, manual labor as a heavy silence descended in the room, made thicker by the size of his home. He had a counter and cabinets to keep his food in, as well as an ancient fridge that, if the girls ever bothered to check, they’d discover wasn’t plugged into any outlet. There was a table to eat the food at, and directly connected to that—hardwood floors merging into Persian rugs—was something like a living room, complete with fireplace and threadbare couch. Bookshelves lined the walls. He had a well-loved collection of clocks. That was really all Ozpin needed. His only other property was a small storeroom where he kept bits of his past ( _still there—unavoidable—yet firmly locked away—_ ) and an even smaller bedroom. He didn’t sleep much nowadays.

 

“Here we are,” he said after he’d gone through the ritual all again. Milk. Chocolate. Vanilla. The hot drink was perfect once more and Ozpin slid it directly over to Ruby.

 

It was intercepted halfway there.

 

“She’s fine,” Yang said, skillfully ignoring the spluttering that went on beside her, Ruby making exaggerated, grabby motions for the mug. It wasn’t as if they were trying to be subtle about the dispute. Without looking Yang planted her hand across Ruby’s face and shoved her back.

 

“ _Mmff!_ ” was the angry reply.

 

“Look,” Yang said. “Letting us in was... super nice of you, but we don’t need anything else, okay? Except directions. But not food or anything. We’re not even hungry.”

 

At that exact moment her stomach gave a rumble like thunder. Yang blushed fiery red from her chin to the tips of her ears.

 

Ruby snickered.

 

“That’s too bad,” Ozpin said. He was careful to keep his voice low and respectful, his stance the very definition of unthreatening. In fact, he turned his back on Yang completely, pulling out his single plate from the cupboard to fiddle with. His knife and fork were already placed neatly on the table from breakfast. “You see, when you live out here as long as I have you get a good sense of the weather. I knew this storm was coming and made the appropriate preparations. What I mean to say is, my garden—which I am quite proud of, by the way—is missing more than a few fresh fruits and veggies. Far too many for me to eat on my own.”

 

Ozpin heard Ruby giggle, no doubt at the playful way he’d spoken ‘veggies,’ but Yang’s expression was still set in stone. He didn’t miss the dull thump as she kicked Ruby under the table. Nor when the reflection of Yang’s arm shot out, neatly stealing the knife and hiding it in her lap.

 

Even Ruby sobered at that.

 

Ozpin would let her have it.

 

After all, it wasn’t as if the flimsy bit of metal could actually hurt him. Let the child have the illusion of safety. It was the least he could offer her. 

 

"I like veggies," Ruby added and though her smile was forced, it was appreciated. 

 

Conversation seemed difficult though when three parties knew that one was planning an attack and two of them thought that attack still possessed the element of surprise. Ozpin neatly ignored Ruby’s frantic movements at Yang as he worked and he used their distraction to cobble together a dinner. Yes, there was enough for a salad from his garden and with a quick, magical trade ( _for you: the promise for an allergy-free spring_ ), Ozpin summoned a loaf to accompany it. The baker miles and miles East of him was working even now, prepping for the coming dawn, and thus his craft was as hot and clean-smelling as summer when it arrived. When Ozpin broke the loaf in two steam rose up to tickle his nose.

 

There was no meat. He’d decided long ago that he’d killed enough.

 

“Here you are,” he said, turning back slow enough that Yang could wipe the scowl off her face and Ruby could sit up straight. Ozpin put the plate between them, staring as they blinked owlishly back.

 

Lettuce, carrots, beets, and strawberries. Two pieces of bread. One plate. One fork. A missing knife. 

 

A mug of hot cocoa that still went untouched. It suddenly occurred to Ozpin that maybe little girls didn’t eat these things anymore.

 

“Well... at least you’re not trying to fatten us up,” Yang muttered, staring at the lettuce. It was if she’d broken one of his own spells. Suddenly the room wasn’t quite so small and none of them held themselves as stiffly. Ruby pounced on her half of the bread and dragged the cocoa towards her, meeting only slight resistance from her sister this time.

 

Ozpin saw the right sleeve of Yang’s jacket shift though: muscles tightening as her hand tightened over her weapon. While she comforted herself with that he took a seat, dragging up the stool he kept for reaching the highest shelves.

 

“I don’t have much,” he admitted slowly. Words still felt strange and woolen in his mouth. “But what I do have is yours. For the night at least. I know you’re eager to head off, but...”

 

As if on cue their small world was lit up by lightning and then the rain came, massive sheets that seemed unnaturally loud against the soft woof of his roof. Everything held though. For all its simplicity the cottage was still imbued with magic and the boards would bend and leak only as soon as their creator did. Ozpin leaned back, perfectly balanced, feeling the thrum of his home within him. Yang seemed to noticed it too. Her free hand touched the grain of the table, still hardly able to believe that was she saw now was the truth.

 

Ozpin truly did regret that.

 

“Wow,” Ruby said, and her tiny voice brought them both back. “It’s awful out there! We’re lucky we found you when we did, Mister—”

 

“Ozpin,” he reminded her.

 

“Mister Ozpin.”

 

“Just Ozpin will suffice.”

 

“What’s suffice?”

 

“To be enough.”

 

“Oooh.” Ruby stuffed more bread into her mouth. She smiled at him with chipmunk cheeks.

 

“Lucky…” Yang echoed, looking morosely at the plate. She reached for a slice of beet, hesitated, then shoved it whole into her mouth. She chewed with thankless intensity and Ozpin was somehow marveled by it.

 

Yang swallowed violently. “So. You live out here?”

 

A definite shift in tone. Ruby slowed her movements, taking up the cocoa instead. She slipped it noisily—eyes averted.

 

“Yes.” Ozpin crossed his legs. “As you well see.”

 

Yang’s eyes narrowed. “All alone? Don’t you have friends or something?”

 

“ _Yang_ ,” Ruby hissed.

 

“What? That’s an okay question. Isn’t that okay?” She wasn’t really looking for confirmation and Yang plowed on, stopping only to munch through a particularly loud carrot. “Dad said no one lives in these woods. That it's totally abandoned. Nothing out here except those _things—_ ” Yang suddenly cut off, eyes going a little wide as she whipped her head around towards Ruby.

 

“...things?” the younger girl asked, voice small.

 

“Um...”

 

“Grimm,” and now they were looking at him. Ozpin felt the weight of both their gazes and couldn’t quite decide if it was pleasant or not. “Your father was most likely referring to Grimm.”

 

Ruby’s eyes strayed to the roof, where the weathervane was hidden. Ozpin nodded.

 

“Yes, little one—” the endearment slipped out unbidden, unacknowledged. “A long, long time ago this world was populated by Creatures of Grimm, monsters of the worst sort; a fearful threat to all of humanity. It is said they were attracted to fear, though it's more accurate to say that any sort of negative emotion drew them out. Sadness. Loneliness... the ache at being lost in the woods. They could latch onto the emotion's of a soul and track it better than any blood hound. They would not be reasoned with; exhibited not mercy; left no survivors. I keep that weathervane in sight as a constant reminder of their presumed superiority, a warning against what was nearly our complete and utter destruction.”

 

Both girls were _really_ staring now, open-mouthed and a little pale. Ruby had a bit of bread dangling from her lips. Ozpin, astounded at himself, felt a soft blush crawling up his neck.

 

“I... I apologize,” he said. “Perhaps that wasn’t appropriate information for children. It has been... a long time since I’ve entertained guests. But you needn’t worry, I promise. The Grimm were eradicated ages past.” Ozpin tried for a soothing smile.

 

“I’m not worried,” Ruby chirped.

 

“... Good. Good, good. I assume your father only meant for those stories to act as a deterrent. To keep you from wandering far.”

 

“Fat lot of good that did,” Yang muttered at the same time Ruby announced, “You talk funny.” The smile turned indulgent for the both of them.

 

“Indeed,” Ozpin said. He was unsure of who he was answering. “Will you not tell me why you _did_ venture this far out?”

 

The wrong question. Very, very wrong. Had he been in his prime—socially, that is—Ozpin would have realized the danger at the very start of the conversation and steered clear of that particular trap, or at least only set it off if he thought it served some higher purpose. As it was he was stumbling blind and he watched as this little girl shut him out more thoroughly than many three times her age had ever managed. Yang's eyes dimmed, hardened, and her body moved back in a defensive gesture. It allowed the knife in her hand to just barely breech the tabletop. Ozpin pretended not to notice.

 

“I’ve overstepped myself,” he said before either of them could snap. “My apologies. You’re quite right, of course. I’m merely providing you with some shelter for the night. Nothing more, and you owe me nothing for the service. Please,” and he gestured to the remaining food.

 

The girls ate, hunger finally getting the best of them. It certainly helped that eating was easier than his stilted conversation. The salad was demolished, then quickly followed by another loaf of bread—still, somehow, warm. Yang ate one-handed the whole time and Ozpin made sure Ruby drank the entirety of her cocoa.

 

It wasn’t really a warm atmosphere. Two of them kept wary eyes peeled. The third was oblivious. There was little to say, though the rain was loud enough to distract them.

 

Another peal of thunder marked the end of the meal. 

 

“Will you at least let me dress your wounds before bed?” Ozpin asked quietly. He gestured to Ruby’s scrapes; the awkward way Yang sat in her chair. “Hot baths perhaps?”

 

“Yeah!” Ruby said at the same time Yang’s expression tightened.

 

“No.”

 

Ruby deflated. “You _always_ say no.”

 

Yang only glared. Ozpin inclined his head.

 

“I thought as much,” he said and firmly snapped his fingers.

 

Instantly Ruby slumped against the table: a fine marionette cut of its strings. Her head drifted to the wood with a soft thump and his mug skittered a bit from her hand, though thankfully didn’t topple. Her stillness was matched only by Yang’s, for a moment frozen in complete and utter shock.

 

Then came the storm.

 

“ _You bastard—!_ ” she shrieked, the sound both frail and thrumming with rage. Injuries or no, Yang hauled herself on top of the table with fierce determination, raising the knife with every intention of plunging it somewhere vulnerable. She pushed off, lunged for him—

 

 —and landed atop an empty stool.

 

Then Ozpin was there again, behind her, thin, pale fingers brushing against the pulse point of her neck. He whispered words not heard in many, many years and Yang too collapsed.

 

Ozpin caught and cradled her, as gently as he was able.

 

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “It is better this way.”

 

It wasn’t easy to make the young and exuberant sleep. They had too much desire to see the world, to _be_ in it, and they rejected spells just as much as they did a mother’s insistence that it was bed time. Much easier to induce through a tasteless, odorless potion. Though of course, that required the rare ingredient _trust_. You had to get the sleeper to drink it.

 

“And I have but one mug,” Ozpin said, enjoying his strange, little joke. “You won’t rest as easy as your sister, but I doubt you’d have managed that naturally either. Am I right?”

 

Yang gave no answer of course. She did twitch a bit, but was otherwise limp in Ozpin’s arms. He easily scooped up Ruby alongside her, taking a moment to simply contemplate the both of them nestled against him. It wasn't hard to touch them when they were like this; no different than hefting dolls. 

 

Staring at them. Contemplating their weight. It was tempting in that moment to... to keep them. Something like that. But Ozpin didn’t need to see Ruby’s silver eyes to remember what a terrible decision that would be.

 

“Come along,” he whispered.

 

There was little to be done now. Ozpin used benign, fresh-smelling magic to clean their clothes, skin, and hair; thought about mending their injuries while they slept and decided that that would be overstepping himself. Instead he simply took them into his small bedroom and tucked them into the single bed. Even in sleep Yang curled protectively alongside her sister, a newly cleaned hand slipping into Ruby’s hair. The image was exactly as it should be. 

 

A finished tale then. He’d let the magic take them as long as they needed—hours, days even—until their bodies were fully rested, and then they’d wake in some comfortable meadow, with the storm gone and hazy, dream-like sense of how to get home. It wouldn’t be clear to them how they’d come across this knowledge, as the memories of a strange man would have grown indistinct too. They’d accept this. Just like Yang had accepted the transformation of his house. No one truly wanted to engage with the impossible. What was that utterly complicated saying?

 

Ah, yes. Ignorance was indeed bliss.

 

And he was about to leave. Ozpin actually had his feet turned towards the door when a traitorous hand slide out, affectionately brushing the bangs from Ruby’s eyes. Hmm. _She_  might recall all this... but there was little to be done about that.

 

“I don’t expect you’ll remember me fondly, little one. But perhaps you might try?”

 

Ozpin left then then; to sleep and to dream. He made his way back to the kitchen.

 

He thought about making more cocoa.

 

Fate though—if one believed in such grandiose things—took the choice from him. For Ozpin stood by the table, enjoying the warmth of his fire. He listened to its crackle, the torrential rain outside—

 

—and the sound of someone else in his home.

 

Not the girls. Someone _else_. 

 

Ozpin whirled and for the second time that day someone came at him with a knife.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! I come bearing another (super late...) update. Things are heating up a bit (no, no in the VIOLENT way, no sexy-times yet) and hopefully that provides you with some entertainment on this Saturday afternoon :D

The attack was not unlike the storm outside: sudden, powerful, expected once you knew it was there and yet still managing to surprise. Ozpin’s magic may have been as strong as ever, but his body certainly wasn’t. It felt heavy, soft even after so many years spent alone. It was the difference between an easy victory and his reality—that the knife actually came within a few centimeters of his cheek.

 

Still, Ozpin turned, quick as a viper and twice as cunning. He slowed time marginally, allowing himself a look at this intruder. Not that it did him much good. His small cottage was quite dark now; the pulse of magic blowing out his fire and the distant flashes of lightning only giving him the barest of images: broad shoulders, messy hair, bent legs that spoke of height. Sure enough the man used that to his advantage, landing in a lunge that let him pivot remarkably fast. Ozpin felt—like something out of a dream—his body stumbling back as the knife came at him a second time.

 

“Why are you doing this?” he murmured, unsure if the words were loud enough for his attacker, or just meant for him. “ _How_ are you doing this?”

 

An arc towards his kidney, a slash in the space where his neck had been. Ozpin’s eyes widened at the realization that this man truly meant to kill him—and was remarkably adapt at his trade. These were not the clumsy moves of a normal man fighting through fear. His talent was honed, methodical, and above all amplified by magic. Oh, not a lot. Just enough to make him faster and more agile than he should be.

 

As the man attempted to grab Ozpin by his hair he thought two things that began to come together in his mind:

 

The first was that he’d lowered the wards for Yang. So she could see the house, pass through it, and—as a byproduct—anyone else could too. Ozpin often did things on instinct, even if he did not entirely understand their meaning at the time. He could only ever hope that he understood their ramifications.

 

He could not, as of yet, understand this.

 

The second thing was that magic continued to trail this man...like a strong scent that dissipated but never truly fell away. He probably didn’t even know it was there, certainly couldn’t control it, but its existence puzzled Ozpin all the same. Or rather, its existence here. Now. On this of all nights. During a time when he had a little girl with silver eyes sleeping in the next room.

 

Ozpin never had put much stock in coincidences. He wasn’t about to start now.

 

“Enough of this,” he said and Ozpin unfurled his hand. As he did a light bright as the sun emerged from his palm, blazing white and covering every corner of the room. He saw the outline of the man stumble back, his arm instinctually thrown up to protect his eyes. Ozpin felt a pang that it must always be this way—that his extended hand was always going to be a weapon—though this was better than completely incapacitating the man, or even sending him away. There was something larger at play here and Ozpin would not rest until he had teased out what it was.

 

 _You have no stake in this world anymore_ , a voice whispered and the roughly shoved it away. Perhaps not, but the world obviously thought differently. After all, it kept turning up on his doorstep.

 

The light was fading now, small increments that, he hoped, would allow the man to regain his vision more easily. Ozpin took the brief moment of peace to re-light the fire and fix what they’d toppled off the counters, so that when it was night once more there was still small comfort to be had around them; little pockets of stability in an otherwise topsy-turvy world.

 

He certainly felt off-kilter tonight.

 

“Who are you?” Ozpin asked, using the same tone he’d earlier coaxed Ruby with. Nine or ninety-nine—it hardly mattered. They were all impossibly young to him. “Why have you come here?” Ozpin’s lip twitched. “Are you aware you’re trespassing on private property?”

 

“Oh, a jokester,” the man hissed and that was all, the biting condemnation clearly not meant to start a conversation. Ozpin tried regardless.

 

“Yes, I suppose so. When the mood strikes me. I find humor to be so important, particularly during dark times. Don’t you agree?”

 

The man was having none of it. Ozpin could see more of him now, stumbling towards the nearest counter. He’d lost his knife during the flash and was clearly looking to secure another. With a simple twist of his wrist Ozpin banished them to the vegetable garden outside. The man cursed. Perhaps he’d picked up on that bit of magic.

 

How wonderfully curious.

 

“Who are you?” Ozpin repeated. His voice was not quite as cordial. 

 

A full form now, nearly complete. The man was holding himself up with one palm still pressed to his eyes and Ozpin took in everything the position gave him: Broad shoulders connected to—as he’d suspected—very long legs, all of him lean and slightly ragged. His clothes were those of a commoner, though one who knew well how to survive in this world. The colors were all muted grays and blacks; his shirt a patchwork of corrections; there were no pieces of jewelry to risk catching on something unfortunate; and his boots, Ozpin was surprised to see, had scuff marks along the heels, characteristic of someone used to obliterating their own tracks. No wonder this man knew how to fight. There was so little optimism within him.

 

Ozpin was about voice as much when the man finally looked up. Black hair streaked with silver. Piercing red eyes.

 

He looked like a jaded version of Ruby.

 

“You’re her father,” Qzpin whispered.

 

The man let out a laugh that was somehow more animal than human; like he was a predator who’d caused a wound with those words.

 

“I’m no one's dad,” he said. “But I’ve sure as hell got kids!”

 

 _What a fascinating distinction_ , Ozpin thought and then the man came at him once more.

 

It should have been another easy fight—easier, considering that this time the man was disarmed and disoriented. But Ozpin was too, by the confirmation that things were linked in ways he couldn’t yet explain; at having Ruby’s coloring and soft features coming at him with an intent to kill. Ozpin hadn’t realized just how preciously beautiful he thought her, until those looks were twisted into something violent.

 

Not that the man didn’t have a beauty all his own. Persistence, in its way, was alluring.

 

But certainly not foolishness.

 

Except... except. Apparently _he_ was the fool, because one second the man was still halfway across his kitchen and Ozpin stood in a pocket of time, chastising him for his insistence on fighting a losing battle... and the next there was a white-hot pain across his left eye.

 

“ _What—!_ ” he cried.

 

Ozpin caught a blur of black and he turned away from it; instinctual, his body curling into a protective ball. It had not felt physical pain in decades and…and it was a _touch_ , another being’s body communing with his own, and it would have stunned him even if it had been kind. Perhaps more-so. For one long moment Ozpin was aware only of the sense of wrongness along his left eye, the throbbing that knifed through the rest of his head, how his world had suddenly gone bright, sticky red.

 

 _No_ , Ozpin thought, thinking he was red with rage and oh, he couldn’t become that, not again, but then he nearly cried out in relief when he found that it was only blood, dripping down the side of his face. He hesitantly lifted a hand and hissed at the contact. There was a jagged tear now that he shied from. Ozpin’s hand went to his hair instead and found a soft down-feather caught there, nestled between the strands.

 

“You’re a bird,” he murmured and Ozpin took another moment to marvel at the fact that there were still shape-shifters left in this world.

 

It was two moments too long.

 

He could hear them in the next room. The man was yelling now and a girl’s voice—Yang’s— was responding with sleepy fright. Ozpin caught the grunt as the man hefted Ruby into his arms, the slide of his window, the sudden roar as the storm filled his home.

 

And still Ozpin stood there, hand pressed over his eye. He waited what might have been a minute, or an hour, or an eternity. It was all much the same to him. 

 

“Routines keep us grounded,” he finally said, "... but they can also keep you bound in one place too long. Isn't that right?" 

 

His neatened kitchen seemed to stand in answer. How useless this domesticity was when Ozpin was ruining the countertop with his blood. 

 

He moved quickly after that. Ozpin straightened and cast a smeared palm over his home, summoning only the most basic of necessities: food, clothes, a few things from his storeroom, his mug packed safely into a satchel. He let his wards drop completely and felt the magic rushing back to him. He slipped inside his bedroom only long enough to confirm that his ears hadn’t deceived him. The man and his two girls were gone.

 

There was a small puddle decorating the rug and windowsill.

 

The man was quick, no doubt, but he was also hindered by the children and the storm. Ozpin was confident that he could catch up. The real question was, what would he do when he did?

 

“I don’t know,” he told the silence. “I quite honestly don't know... how marvelous.”

 

Ozpin left then. It should have been a miraculous thing, the act of stepping outside his door... but it paled in comparison now to everything else that had happened this day. Ruby's eyes and Yang's care and the man's violent transformation, they already meant so much more than whatever he'd had before. Ozpin tilted his head up, lighting flashing above him in chaotic arcs, and he let the rain wash out his wound. It stung horribly. He reveled in it.

 

Following the beat of his own pulse, Ozpin turned towards the depths of the forest.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive 'thank you' to all you lovelies for lending me your patience as I update. I've got about five stories going atm and a busy, busy life, so I appreciate it :D

_She had only simple memories of her mother. Hair smelling like the leaves they burned in fall, hands mercilessly tickling her sides, the taste of chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. There were stories too--and movement. There had been a time, when she was no older than three, that Mom took them into the waters surrounding Patch, nothing but a picnic and their quickly rented boat to keep them company. She’d whispered that there was nothing wrong with some time alone, just between a mother and her daughter; that Yang, Dad, and Uncle Qrow could survive without them for an afternoon. Probably._

_Even young that had amused her and Mom’s laugh was the clearest memory she had. They’d curled together under a blanket, snacks in hand, taking breaths and just enjoying what was given. She’d always found comfort rocking in Mom’s arms. That day the ocean had rocked them together._

 

_She felt a similar rocking now._

 

“—back!”

 

“Absolutely not—— _foolish_ —”

 

“—on’t care! We can’t just let—”

 

Ruby groaned as one voice, Yang’s, finally began to grow distinct, but then they both fell silent. The gentle rocking stopped too. Annoyed at the loss, Ruby let out another whine of displeasure and buried her face in the material that cradled her. It felt rough against her cheek and smelled mostly of sweat.

 

Nose wrinkling, Ruby forced her eyes open a slit, still crusty from sleep. Her arms felt too heavy to lift, so she just rubbed her head against the cloth some more. A world of grey and green filled her vision.

 

Groggily, Ruby pulled back to find Uncle Qrow smirking down at her.

 

“Well, look at the lazy bones who finally decided to wake,” he said. “No, kid, don’t speak yet. Here. Drink this.”

 

Uncle Qrow kept one arm firmly under Ruby’s legs, tucking her against his side while his other hand snaked down to clip a familiar flask off his belt. This smell was even worse—Ruby recognized the strong stench of spirits—but when she drank a little she found only clear water inside. She started gulping a little desperately until Uncle Qrow snatched it back.

 

“Easy there. You’ll make yourself sick. Besides, leave some for the rest of us, eh?”

 

 

“…kay.”

 

She did feel a little woozy. Wool-headed, like the time she’d had strong meds while sick. For a long moment Ruby just enjoyed that gentle, familiar sway, and then she began to take stock of her surroundings. Uncle Qrow was walking them steadily across the forest floor, Yang trotting along beside him. Ruby knew her sister and right now she was torn between her two strongest emotions: anger and protection. She kept alternating between stomping to show she was upset about something and sneaky worried looks up at her. Ruby caught her eye on that last one and tried for a reassuring smile... even though she couldn’t quite remember what she was trying to reassure Yang about.

 

The day was pretty bright and sunny though. It looked as if there’d been a bad storm the night before; broken branches everywhere and—Ruby noticed with a grimace—her clothes were still pretty damp. She plucked at a bit of shirt sticking to her chest and then raised her thumb to her mouth, biting it briefly. Uncle Qrow looked really tired. Yang was jumping out of her skin. Ruby bit down just a little harder, trying to _remember_ —

 

“Alright, squirt, that’s enough.” Uncle Qrow gently took Ruby’s hands in his, sighing down at her. He seemed to consider a moment, nodded, then unceremoniously stopped and sat her down on a mossy rock. Yang climbed up beside her.

 

“Uncle Qrow?” Ruby asked.

 

He reached out and knocked both their heads together.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Hey!”

 

“You two are the most bone-headed, irresponsible, utterly _stupid_ brats I’ve ever had the misfortune of being related to!”

 

“You’re not related to me,” Ruby groused and squirmed as Uncle Qrow tweaked her ear this time. “Stooop!”

 

“You stop,” he hissed, face twisting with more anger than either of them had seen from him before. Ruby drooped as Yang tugged her hair over her shoulder, choosing to play with the strands rather than look her uncle in the eye. “Do you have _any_ idea what you’ve put your dad through the last few days?” Both of them winced. “He’s back there losing his goddamn mind because both of his kids decided to run off, alone, in the woods, right before a fucking storm... and honestly? You did a pretty damn good job of it. If you weren’t such fools I might actually be impressed with the ground you covered.”

 

Yang peeked up hopefully. “Can you be impressed anyway?”

 

“Absolutely not,” he growled.

 

The two of them wilted again.

 

Silence descended, broken only by the sound off water dripping off leaves and the occasional bird passing overhead. Ruby kept her gaze firmly on her shoes—noting the caked mud and untied laces—and tried really, really, _really_ hard to remember more than what she’d been given. Because she did recall leaving the house with Yang two days ago, excitement bubbling up within her at the thought of an adventure. She remembered the endless trek deeper and deeper into the woods, going through the snacks they’d brought with them quicker than she’d have liked, growing tired, grouchy, riding in the wagon and doing her best to keep her cloak clean. Ruby fiddled with the edge of it now, happy that no one had taken it off in all this madness. Her boots might be messy, her white pants a disaster, and her shirt still sticking to her chest, but at least her cloak was in good shape. She pulled the hood over her eyes and breathed deeply, wishing that it smelled like Mom.

 

With a sigh Uncle Qrow knelt down. Ruby felt Yang shift closer to her and tense just a little because they both knew what that meant. Any adult getting down on their level was preparing for an Important Talk, and Ruby didn’t think she had the energy for that right now.

 

“We’re sorry,” she mumbled, hoping they could just jump straight to the end. No such luck. Uncle Qrow reached out and pushed the hood back a bit so he could see Ruby’s eyes.

 

“Uh huh. I bet you are. What were you _thinking_ , kid?” He caught a bit of Ruby’s hair too, smoothing that back as well. “Seriously. Talk to me a sec. What was goin’ through that head of yours?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“I’ll say. Was this your idea?”

 

Had it been? She and Yang always came up with things together, _did_ things together, until the lines dividing who was who started blurring. Ruby was pretty sure about this one though. It had all been Yang, even if she’d been willing to go along with it.

 

Which was why she said, “Yeah.”

 

Sisterly support.

 

Uncle Qrow titled his head. He looked a lot like his namesake in that moment. Yang’s eyes were jumping between the two of them rapidly.

 

“Mmm hmm,” he said. “You decided to go exploring the woods?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Just out for some adventure?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Nothing more, nothing less?”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“You’re an awful liar, kid.”

 

Yang made a strangled noise and threw her hands up in the air. “It was my idea, okay?” She stomped her foot and stared Uncle Qrow down as he turned his gaze on her. “You _know_ it was me why do you always gotta do this?”

 

“Because you deserve it,” he snapped. “Dammit, Yang. What the hell was worth getting kidnapped over?!”

 

Ruby gasped.

 

It was like she’d been standing in a dark room this whole time with a flashlight, seeing only a small circle of space, and then suddenly someone came along and flicked the overhead switch. Everything came rushing back at once: the adorable little cottage they’d found yesterday, the strange man inside— _Ozpin_. Food, stilted conversation, Yang being mean and pretending she couldn’t see things when they were obviously right there. Ruby remembered hearing a thrilling story about monsters and then... nothing.

 

Had she fallen asleep? Had she been... drugged? Ruby sort of thought she had, except she didn’t want to say that because,

 

“He didn’t kidnap us!” Ruby grabbed hold of Uncle Qrow’s arm, trying to get him to pay attention. “He didn’t! He was nice, he let us in!”

 

“So you just went?” Uncle Qrow was still talking to Yang. “What, did he offer candy too?”

 

“We were lost—”

 

“And who’s fault was that?”

 

“Stop it!”

 

“You need to keep Ruby _safe_ , Yang—”

 

“Uncle Qrow listen, I can take care of myself—”

 

“—and endangering her for some stupid fantasy is unacceptable at your age—!”

 

“I WAS LOOKING FOR MOM!”

 

Yang’s shout echoed off the treetops and scattered the nearby fauna, effectively shutting Uncle Qrow up as well. His mouth hung open as Yang frantically rummaged in the top of her boot, finally succeeding in pulling the photo out.

 

“I found it under that floorboard in your room,” she whispered. “I wasn’t snooping, I swear. I just went in for your coat because Ruby and I were playing wizards and I didn’t have anything cloak-like and I stepped on it and it shifted and I just—I just found it.” Yang drew in a massive breath, clutching the picture close. “I thought...”

 

“That maybe you could find her,” Qrow finished. He didn’t so much stand as stumble upright, looking down at Yang, but really looking _through_ her. Ruby hesitantly reached out to grab the hem of his shirt.

 

“Uncle Qrow?”

 

“...I need a drink,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. Then all at once it was like a switch flipped. His eyes cleared, his face hardened, and Uncle Qrow bent down to scoop Ruby back into his arms. He hauled Yang to her feet with his free hand.

 

“We’re going home. _Now_.”

 

Uncle Qrow started off in a seemingly random direction, practically dragging Yang behind him. She dug in her heels.

 

“Wait...” Yang’s protest was feeble though.

 

“I said we’re going home!”

 

Ruby looked down, catching Yang’s eye. They knew better than to keep fighting at this point, but that look was a promise between them. Of what, she wasn’t entirely sure. That they’d come back again? Keep looking for Yang’s mom? That Ruby would just help her through this? Maybe it was all those things. Regardless, it was binding.

 

Promises were like that. As potent as magic.

 

Ruby watched the forest pass over Uncle Qrow’s shoulder, leaves falling from the storm and the approaching frost. It was soothing, tracking their descent and feeling that familiar, rocking sway. She tried to think about good things. Like the nice man, Ozpin, who definitely _hadn’t_ kidnapped them, and what he might be up to now. Ruby wondered if he missed them at all because strangely, she sort of missed him.

 

They walked a long time and it took Ruby while to notice. When she did she kept her mouth shut, only allowing herself the smallest gasp of awe.

 

The leaves weren’t just falling. They were landing in a pattern.

 

They were leaving behind a trail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love~


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, lovely readers! I'm SO sorry for the massive wait on this chapter. We're heading into the end of the semester, everything is madness, blah blah blah, excuses, excuses. Nevertheless, I come bearing words now <3

They walked for a very long time, longer than what felt possible in their condition—tired, discouraged, sporting bumps and bruises all around—and Qrow was honestly surprised that it took Yang as long as it did to announce,

 

“We’re lost, aren’t we.”

 

It wasn’t a question.

 

Qrow scowled. “We’re not lost, kid. I know how to find my way around these woods.”

 

She kicked a small stone in response, sending it flying into the underbrush where it startled some poor rodent away. Beside her Ruby was staring determinedly at the ground, putting one food directly in front of the other like she was crossing some narrow beam. Qrow felt much the same way, frankly, like he was just barely keeping his footing above some awful drop. They said that tragedy happened in an instant and that change came on fast...no one bothered to mention how the hell you were supposed to keep up with it though.

 

Qrow snuck another glance. Oh, his girls were sullen. They felt they had the right to be indignant about all this and he felt he had the right to give them a good wake up call. Not that he would. He wasn’t their father, and he would never, _ever_ raise his hand to them as his own father had. Didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted to knock their heads together though. Again. Maybe if he was lucky he could shake something loose. Something like sense.

 

What the _hell_ had they been thinking?

 

Qrow knew though, if he was being honest with himself—and goddamn that was getting harder and harder each day—that the girls were in many ways products of their upbringing, and that he and Tai had been failing spectacularly in that regard. They were still people. Tiny people, but people nonetheless, and Qrow wasn’t about to let the cute shits entirely off the hook. They had agency, dammit. But at the same time... well, he couldn’t blame them for being curious, and a complete lack of information would sure as hell breed curiosity. Given their utterly stubborn natures, had he honestly expected anything less? Of course she’d seek answers someday. They should have seen this coming miles away. Yang might have a right to know about her mother, but Qrow had a duty to protect her. He knew which one of those trumped the other.

 

“Let it go,” Tai liked to say. It used to be a happy, teasing phrase between them: “Let it go” when the woman at market thought Qrow was a creep (not wrong); “Let it go,” he said when the kids were mad at him (they’d be fine by dinner); “Let it go” Qrow teased back when Tai’s attempt at a tree house ended in goddamn disaster. Things used to be simple. Now Tai said, “Let it go” with a depressed, defeated air. Summer’s murder, Raven’s betrayal, the knowledge that their family would never again be whole... just let it all go.

 

Which made walking back into that house two days ago all the more jarring. Spotting Tai with _Qrow’s_ bottle empty at his side and a wild look in his eyes. He’d known in an instant what had happened—only his girls could cause that kind of reaction in Tai anymore—and it was a rush of relief to realize they were just gone instead of dead in a ditch somewhere. Qrow had set off for the woods less than an hour later, just long enough to make sure the girls still had a dad to come back to. Tracking them was easy. Two kids and a wagon? C’mon. Even faster when he’d given up feet for wings.

 

Qrow had never liked doing that, indulging in this fucking family curse, what Raven had once insisted was actually a _gift_. Ha! What bullshit. Funny thing about gifts was that you could _return_ them, and he, lucky little bird, had been stuck with this ‘gift’ since he was a boy, in a world that had long moved on from magic. Qrow didn’t like it, but he sure as fuck was stuck with it. Like his mother, like his uncle, like his...

 

His niece.

 

Qrow watched Yang toeing her way through the dirt and wondered if she’d woken up with any feathers on her pillow yet. No. Probably not. Despite everything, he hoped that she came to him when the change began. She’d need someone to lean on. For all the drama, Qrow didn’t miss how the fingers of her right hand stayed tucked into the top of her pant’s pocket, no doubt barely brushing the edge of that picture.

 

Qrow hated that fucking picture. What a lie. What a steaming load of _shit_.

 

Ruby at least remained simple. Black and white morals and straightforward motives. Qrow loved that about her. Truly her mother’s daughter. Watching her out of his peripheral vision, pretending that her coat was white instead of red, he could almost mistake them for one another.

 

Ruby suddenly picked up the pace, catching onto the edge of Qrow’s shirt. She dug her heels in a bit and skid along—while he tried valiantly not to laugh at her antics. He was glad he succeeded when she said,

 

“Uncle Qrow? Are you still mad at us?”

 

Damn that pout. Those ridiculous doe-eyes too. Ruby could have the world laid out at her feet if she ever learned how to wield those as a weapon. Still, Qrow knew his way around a lie.

 

“You bet I am, kid.”

 

“Okay, but like, mad enough not to listen?”

 

That halted him in his tracks. Qrow turned on Ruby who stared defiantly up at him, her lower lip protruding. Yang stopped too, nibbling at her thumbnail as she glanced between the two of them. That was another thing Tai said, are you too mad to listen? Keep a clear head, rosebud. You most of all, firecracker. You can be mad, sure, but always listen to what the other person has to say. Hear out their side of the story.

 

Qrow had never been very good at that. For his nieces though...

 

He knelt, one knee in the dirt and eye-to-eye with Ruby. Yang came in on the side, just close enough that her sleeve brushed Qrow’s, and the three of them created a warm, close-knit huddle.

 

“I’m listening,” Qrow said.

 

Ruby nodded seriously. “We’re not lost.”  

 

Qrow felt his lip twitch as Yang huffed, clearly prepared to deliver a snide comment when Ruby cut her off with,

 

“We’re not lost, Uncle Qrow, something _isn’t letting us leave_.”

 

…What?

 

Another time, another place...hell, just two days before this and Qrow would have instantly dismissed such a foolish claim, rumpled Ruby’s hair and praised her active imagination. That was before though, before he’d found his girls fast asleep— _drugged_ —in another man’s house, one who clearly wasn’t the simple cottage-dweller he appeared to be. Not that he’d appeared to even be that. Expensively tailored green suit. Pretty, long white hair. Soft hands that had clearly never seen a day of hard labor in their lives. Qrow had slipped in through the kitchen window—something... electric skimming his feathers as he did, like he’d passed through a barrier that had only just decided not to throw him back—and had caught sight of that eerie man standing in contemplation. And he had been eerie. It wasn’t just the distant look in his eyes, like someone not quite tethered to reality, or even the unnatural stillness that had taken hold of him in his own home. He was _beautiful_ , beautiful in a way that a snake or a spider was—bright colors warning you about the venom that lurked beneath. Qrow had always put good stock in his instincts. They had kept him alive this long, hadn’t they? His hearing had picked up on the girls in the other room and in an instant he made a decision.

 

What was one more life to take? Nothing. Not to him. Certainly not for his girls.

 

Qrow had grabbed the nearest weapon and morphed, going straight for the kill.

 

_Of course_ , he thought, rubbing at the shoulder he’d wrenched in the fight. _I was at a bit of a disadvantage..._

 

Poison, alright. In the form of magic. And now it seemed to have followed them here.

 

Because Qrow trusted his nieces, and when he bothered to stop and listen he realized that Ruby was _right_. Something was off. He straightened quickly, vaguely aware of Ruby and Yang doing the same. Moving in a slow circle Qrow examined their surroundings and catalogued everything he knew about this forest—which was quite a bit... and also exactly the problem. He knew they should have been much closer to home already, nearing the edge where the trees thinned out from generations of families gathering wood and cutting trees for their lumber. There should have been the faintest trace of paths and, if they were very lucky, a whiff of the sea carried far on the wind. None of it would have been enough to tell the average person that they were nearing civilization. It would have been more than enough for Qrow.

 

There should have been signs. Instead, they remained surrounded by deep, dense forest, all of it undisturbed.

 

That’s what really made Qrow tense. It wasn’t just the lack of progress, but the lack of evidence they’d moved at all. Still turning, Qrow took stock of the grass they’d passed over—perfectly upright and barren of footprints. There were no snapped twigs in their wake, or evidence of branches they’d pushed aside. Qrow scanned the ground with growing nausea. Yang had been kicking stones for the last hour, yet he could find no marks or scuffs in the dirt. Her boots were immaculate. As were Ruby’s... and his. Qrow tilted his head and looked to the sun. It should have been darker by now. It wasn’t.

 

“God damn you,” Qrow growled. Ruby frowned as Yang stepped back and he immediately brushed a hand down her arm. “Not you, firecracker.” He’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t _seen_. Qrow flashed on the man with old eyes and magic at his fingertips, a chill running down the back of his spine.

 

Yang leaned into the touch. She glanced at Ruby, but she was staring contemplatively at the ground.

 

“Uncle Qrow? What did Ruby mean?”

 

_How did Ruby know?_

The kid was smart, but not that smart. Qrow hadn’t had the chance to teach her any real tracking yet. Slowly, he lifted his other hand to tilt up her chin. Silver eyes met his.

 

“You remember our piggybacks?” he asked her softly. Yang nodded for Ruby.

 

“Yeah, but—”

 

“Good.”

 

It was an old maneuver, born of stubborn sisters who weren’t good at taking turns. Qrow bent and obediently Yang scrambled onto his back and locked her legs around his waist, Ruby moving forward to the front of her arms and repositioning herself there. With a grunt Qrow locked his knees—jeez they were getting heavy—and took a few tentative steps forward. Ruby reached her arms over his shoulders and held onto Yang.

 

“Alright,” he murmured. Whatever this shit was, they were done with it.

 

Sure of his balance, Qrow began to run.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well would you look at that, a quicker AND longer update. Obviously there really is some magic at work here ;)   
> Hope you all enjoy!

Yang promised that she would never be bad again. Never, ever, _ever_.

 

No more fighting with the local boys down in the village. Or tracking muddy footprints into the house. She wouldn’t shove Ruby when they got into fights and she wouldn’t stick gum in her hair (even though that had just been _one time_ ). Yang swore that she’d eat her vegetables too, even the awful broccoli Dad slapped cold and crunchy down on her plate. She could do that. Yang could do more actually. Maybe it wasn’t enough to not be bad—she could be actively good too; help more with the chores and always come in before dark. She’d go to bed without complaining and even quit bugging Uncle Qrow about his work. She could do so if she was just given the chance.

 

Most of all though, Yang would never run away. Not again. She didn’t want to die out here.

 

Even as she thought it though Yang knew it was useless. She titled her head back at the sky—the one that wasn’t getting darker no matter how long they were out here—and had the awful sense that no one was listening to her. After all, when had wishing and praying ever helped her before? Not when she asked for her mom to come back.

 

Or Ruby’s.

 

Yang caught Ruby’s eye over Uncle Qrow’s shoulder, an entire, silent conversation passing between them. They could each feel how Uncle Qrow’s steps were getting heavier, slower, his body sagging a little more each minute under their combined weight. Yang gripped her fingers into his shirt and felt the sweat seeping up from his back, how the muscles were begin to tremble—just a little. Uncle Qrow couldn’t run for forever... and running didn’t seem to be getting them anywhere. The trees still weren’t any thinner and his boots still left no tracks. Uncle Qrow suddenly took a sharp turn to the left, seemingly random, but Yang caught sight of a birch tree with a groove that looked like the sun. She didn’t voice that it was the same tree they’d passed four times now. Uncle Qrow and Ruby both already knew.

 

Pretty soon they’d have to stop and Yang wasn’t sure what would happen then.

 

“Look,” Ruby whispered.

 

It was like Yang’s thoughts had conjured it up—maybe they had—because Uncle Qrow made another turn and suddenly there was a path ahead of them, one that contrasted horribly with the underbrush they’d grown used to. It wasn’t made by human feet, Yang was sure. Unlike the pressed grass they should have been leaving behind, this path cut through the woods obscenely, an unnatural stretch of barren dirt and stones. It looked like a blight in an otherwise lush environment and Yang gnawed at her lip as she stared at it.

 

“Stay on the path, Yang,” Dad said whenever they went exploring. “Don’t stray...” but all Yang wanted to do was _avoid_ this path, at all costs. Somehow it seemed more dangerous than the woods.

 

Uncle Qrow seemed to think so too. He skid to a stop and took a deliberate step back, away from the dirt.

 

“Alright,” he heaved. “That’s new.”

 

Ruby scurried down out of his arms and Yang followed, immediately latching onto her sister and keeping her far away from that edge—like an abyss they might fall into. Ruby didn’t seem quite as concerned though. Her eyes traveled the length of the path with determination, seeming to catalogue ever dip and dust cloud. The hand she slipped into Yang’s was twitchy with curiosity, not fear. Yang knew the difference.

 

“It’s like... like a _lure_ ,” she whispered, still trying to get closer. Yang held her back until Ruby was tipped forward like a pendulum. “Like when we fish! It’s an in—in—”

 

“Incentive,” Uncle Qrow said. “A trap. Fuckin’ fuck me to hell, what is this place...” he ran a hand through his hair. Yang tugged her own down over one shoulder.

 

“You’ve never been out here?” she asked. “I mean... not for work?”

 

It was a ‘sensitive’ topic in the family, which was really just code for a big mystery the grownups kept all to themselves. Yang had asked more times than she could count what Uncle Qrow did for a living, how he managed to come home with all sorts of things to help them out even though he said he didn’t have a regular job. Sometimes it was actual lien, but more often than not he’d have something to sell down in the village, pretty necklaces or cloth or weapons, ancient things that collectors off in Atlas wanted.

 

Yang wasn’t stupid. He couldn’t be doing anything good, otherwise why wouldn’t he just tell them? She’d tried following him, as had Ruby, and the two of them together, snooping through his things when he was off (which she _hadn’t_ been doing when she found the picture, honest) and asking the people about it in town, but all of those attempts had turned up the exact same thing: absolute squat.

 

Yang watched Uncle Qrow’s mouth tighten in frustration and she suddenly remembered her promise to drop this if they got out of the woods alright. Whoops. Epic fail there.

 

Well, they were still stuck. So screw that. No reason why she had to hold up her end of the bargain if the universe wasn’t gonna do theirs.

 

“No,” Uncle Qrow finally said. “I’ve never been this far out. Never needed to. And quit being nosy, firecracker. Not now.” Yang scoffed and turned away. Uncle Qrow nudged her in the back. “Honest, kid. These aren’t _my_ woods. No one ventures this deep.” He took on his flask, sipped, seemed to realize it was only water and scowled heavily. “I don’t know what kind of shit is goin’ on around here, but I don’t like it.”

 

“Ozpin does.”

 

“What?” Uncle Qrow peered at Ruby like she was a bright sun hurting his eyes. Yang felt something creepy-crawly inching down her neck.

 

Ruby shrugged. “Ozpin lives out here. You should have let us stay. He would have been able to get us home.” She started walking off to their left, dismissive.

 

“Hey—squirt—wait!”

 

Ruby didn’t slow down though and Yang stared dumbly at her sister’s retreating form... and then seethed. Her back still hurt, her legs were tired, she was hungry and scared but fuck all that. Fuck _all_ of this. Yang pushed herself into a sprint and caught up fast, giving Ruby a good shove that nearly sent her tumbling into the dirt.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Are you stupid?” Yang howled. She grabbed the front of Ruby’s cloak and shook her. “He tried to kill us!”

 

Ruby wrenched Yang’s hands off her, taking a second to smooth the material before shoving right back. “He _didn’t_. He was _nice_.”

 

“Nice guys don’t—don’t drug us, Ruby!”

 

It hadn’t been that, not exactly, but Yang didn’t know how to explain what she actually saw: the man’s finger’s snapping like a weapon and Ruby... Ruby just falling onto the table’s edge.

 

“He was helping us sleep.” Ruby paused though, seeming to think over Ozpin’s actions and coming up. Yang was about to gloat when a booted foot connected with her shin. “He only did that because _you_ were being rude. Maybe if you didn’t have that stick shoved up your butt he wouldn’t have wanted to shut you up too.”

 

“He hurt you, stupid.” Yang had her arm around Ruby’s middle, trying to flip her down onto the ground. “Who knows what he would have done if I hadn’t attacked him!”

 

It was easy then to remember the feel of the knife in her hand, the wood of the table beneath her feet as she made the jump, the jarring landing atop an empty stool. Yang could recall the ice-cold fingers against the back of her neck and strange words filling up her ears... the memories were crystal clear, and that had absolutely nothing to do with how recent they were.

 

Ruby had gone limp. “You _what_? Eep!”

 

“That’s enough.”

 

Uncle Qrow pulled them apart, grabbing them both by the scruff of their shirts and lifting them with ease. His gaze settled on Yang.

 

“You really attacked him?” he asked. Dangling there, Yang swallowed.

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“With?”

 

“Knife.”

 

Uncle Qrow set them back on their feet. “Good girl.”

 

Yang felt a hot ball of pride bubbling up within her. It was tempered though when Uncle Qrow continued, “I managed to damage an eye.”

 

Oh. Cool.

 

Ruby shoved him hard. Uncle Qrow didn’t even budge. “Why are you both so _mean_?” She sounded close to tears now and all at once the fight bled out of Yang. “He didn’t do anything. I liked him and you hurt him.” Ruby turned and marched off again, this time rubbing at her eyes.

 

“Shit,” Uncle Qrow muttered.

 

It had always been like this though. Ruby would get bit by a mangy stray and beg the police not to put him down, claiming that he’d only been scared and defending himself. Or she came home with her arms and face covered in stings, announcing with a pained grin that she’d found the most wonderful bees nest out behind the woodshed. Yang had witnessed firsthand Ruby getting jumped by a market rat, giving as good as she got, but then assuring them over dinner that he probably just needed a friend. Of course he was angry and sad. Wouldn’t you be?

 

Yang had never needed her Dad and Uncle Qrow to tell her to protect Ruby, but year after year it was becoming clearer why it was necessary. Ruby just _let_ things hurt her and she always had some justification for it. It drove Yang nuts... but at the same time that was also just… Ruby. And Yang didn’t want Ruby to be anyone else.

 

Plus, annoyingly, it didn’t escape her notice how often Ruby was right. Schwarz was a pretty okay guy now, ever since Ruby had started bringing him food and books to read. They’d started harvesting excess honey from the hive out back—selling it, pouring it over ice cream—and that mangy mutt was now Zwei, someone Yang couldn’t imagine living without. The fact that Ruby was right though didn’t mean she was _right_.

 

And Yang didn’t think Ruby was right about Ozpin.

 

Uncle Qrow nudged Yang again. “Go make up,” he said, sighing. “We’ve got enough problems out here without the two of you going at it like cats.”

 

“...Yeah.” Yang huffed, but she did go.

 

Ruby was walking slumped now, all the fear and excitement finally catching up with her, and she’d pulled the red hood back up over her hair, something she really only did when she wanted comfort. Ruby’s boots just barely skimmed the edge of that path as she followed it and Yang resisted the urge to drag her away. Instead she swung one arm down around Ruby’s neck. She was getting taller—why was Yang realizing this now?—and her skin had a crisp feel to it, like it was sucking up all the autumn air. Yang kind of wanted to press her forehead against it and sleep.

 

Instead she got just a little bit in front of Ruby. Just in case something jumped out to hurt them.

 

“How do you know this is the way?” Yang asked. She kept her voice low and light.

 

Ruby sniffed. “I don’t. Doesn’t matter though, right? If it’s the right way we’ll get back home. If it’s a trap someone will find us. If it’s not anything we still have to pick a direction to walk in.”

 

“Yeah, alright. Smart.”

 

Ruby slipped her arm around Yang’s waist.

 

Worrying though too. They might not be walking on the path, but it made sure they knew it was there, with unnatural gusts of wind coming in to scatter pebbles and kick up dust in their eyes. The day still wasn’t getting any longer and they still left no footprints in their wake. Yang had been lying to herself this whole time. Ruby’s claim that the cottage was cute and inviting, the snap of Ozpin’s fingers, this strange place that kept them walking in circles... Yang knew exactly what to call all that.

 

But if she was right then words had power and she wouldn’t name it, not even in her own thoughts.

 

As they followed the winding road Yang looked back only once, biting her lip hard at what she saw behind Uncle Qrow. The path behind them was gone now—overtaken by the woods once more—and it looked so much like nature devouring them that Yang picked up the pace. She wondered if her mom had really come through these woods when she left. If she had... Yang wondered if something had devoured her too.

 

She tightened her hand in the fabric of Ruby’s shirt.

 

“Do you think he was right?” Yang whispered. “The guy I mean. Ozpin. Do you really think there are monsters in these woods?”

 

“He called them Grimm.” Ruby paused. “He said they were gone.”

 

“But there’s _something_ here. I can feel it, Rubes.”

 

“... me too. But maybe they’re just—”

 

Whatever they might have been was lost. Ruby cut herself off, stopping so fast that Yang stumbled, and by the time she’d straightened Uncle Qrow was directly behind them, a protective hand on each of their shoulders.

 

The path had abruptly come to an end, which was impossible because they should have _seen_ it ending yards back... yet here it was, the dead ground spreading out into a circle with a single signpost in the middle. Yang heard the sound of running water and gasped, the path beside her flipping like a deck of cards as it was overtaken by green. She watched, open mouthed as all the dead earth disappeared, replaced by thick grass and weeds as if it had never existed. Only the signpost remained.

 

It was pointing down.

 

“Don’t, kid.”

 

Ruby ignored Uncle Qrow though, stepping lightly through the new underbrush to get a closer look. The wood looked old and full of worms from what Yang could see, but there was definitely something scribbled on the side facing them. Ruby cocked her head curiously as she took another step.

 

“It says… ‘welcome.’”

 

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Yang felt the ground shift, _saw_ Ruby’s body starting to tilt unnaturally. Of course Yang jumped forward to grab her—just as Uncle Qrow reached for her—and in a second the three of them were around the signpost together, smack in the middle of where the dead circle had been—

 

—a thick net rising up to claim them.

 

Yang shrieked out of pure fear. The ground was suddenly below her, she had Ruby and Uncle Qrow’s limbs fighting her for space, and the ropes were cutting abrasively into her cheek. Yang heard more than saw something coming out of the woods then; something that she realized must have been following them for a while. She bit and clawed and scrambled for freedom…and then stopped. Yang froze as a pair of legs came into view. They looked wrong from this vantage point. Like there were three instead of two.

 

It took Yang a moment to realize she was seeing a tail.

 

“Let us go.” Uncle Qrow’s voice had gone breathy with fear. “Let _them_ go!”

 

“Not until we’ve had a chance to speak. We have welcomed you, haven’t we?”

 

Yang couldn’t see who was speaking, but the legs and tail inched closer to her. She wrenched up her head as far as she could and caught sight of a torso, head, pointed ears and yellow eyes with slits down the middle. Those eyes blinked slowly, drinking her in.

 

The man who’d spoken before laughed at his own joke. Yang didn’t need to see him to hate him, that laugh did it all. It was almost enough to distract her from the blade that was now an inch from her face.

 

The man hummed in appreciation. “Yes, I don’t like the look of that one. Keep your weapon at the ready.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Yang stared into yellow eyes and felt the whole world shifting.

 

“Good girl, Blake.”

 

***

 

Far off—in distance if not in time—Ozpin stood where a path had recently been, his hands trembling. There was a knife in one, a simple kitchen tool he’d taken from his own garden, and he fumbled it back into his belt lest he do something so foolish as cut himself. His whole body was shaking as Ozpin knelt, slowly, reverently brushing the grass with his palms.

 

Magic had just blown through here. Controlled and...heinous. It had killed to achieve its ends and the new regrowth of the forest couldn’t hide that. Not to one such as him. Ozpin stood again, almost stumbling. He wiped his hand violently on the edge of his pants and drew in a breath.

 

He’d followed Ruby and her kin easily since the cottage, simple leaves that left a trail for him to trace. Ozpin hadn’t expected his spell to suddenly circle back on itself though, to diffuse, stubbornly refusing to move forward because the girls, illogically, weren’t moving forward either. He hadn’t understood until he’d seen the lack of footprints in his wake and a sun that wouldn’t set. Ozpin drew in another breath, this one even shakier than before. Now there was this. Magic all around him, in the trees and in the air and seared into the very ground. It was more magic than he’d thought still existed in world.

 

What nonsense. He’d always been a fool.

 

“I’m sorry,” Ozpin whispered, though to whom he couldn’t say. Maybe to everyone.

 

He pressed fingers briefly to his left eye. There was nothing to do now but move forward... even if he’d stood still for so long. Too long. Even so, Ozpin took another precious second to berate himself, just a small pocket of eternity to indulge in self-loathing.

 

He’d grown quite good at that.

 

Then…then. Ozpin began following the residual magic. He didn’t want to know the kind of creature that would craft such a path, but there was nothing for it. Not when Ruby and Yang were waiting at the end.

 

And that strange, frightful man.

 

“I’m coming,” Ozpin said. It wasn’t much, but it was what he had to offer. “I’m coming for you.”

 

He still didn’t know to whom he was speaking.

 

If that was a promise or a threat.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, what's that? A rare and illusive update is spotted! ;)

Ruby tumbled forward into the net’s center as it rose up, her bodyweight fighting against Yang and Uncle Qrow’s so that the whole structure swung above the ground. Back and forth. Back and forth—a little tighter now, creating a small circle above the dirt. It was still a rocking motion though and for just one second Ruby thought she saw—

 

— _her mom. Just a silhouette in her memory: the outline of long hair and a hood. Ruby could hear her laugh clearly though. They rocked in the boat together, enjoying food and sunshine and the chance to get away. Ruby remembered feeling small in that boat (she was small), but also protected in the middle of her mom’s lap, the blanket covering them and keeping them safe. The ocean waves were soothing. Her mom was humming. Ruby looked up and saw an approaching flock of birds_ —

 

“—them go!” Uncle Qrow yelled and Ruby gasped, feeling like she might have fainted for a second there. She wasn’t surprised. Already all the blood was in her head and the world felt topsy-turvy, exhaustion and only a small bit of salad making it suddenly hard to focus. Ruby did though. She had to, because they might have seen some strange things over the last few days but this... this...

 

People were coming out of the trees. Not running or jumping down, but _literally coming out of them_. One moment there was bark and autumn colored leaves. The next the bark rippled and split to let various limbs through, the leaves turned into hair or skin or cloaks that matched their color. The various browns and reds were beautiful...but even they couldn’t distract Ruby from the fact that these weren’t people. Not animals either.

 

Each was... a mix. Ruby hauled herself into something resembling a sitting position, shoving Yang’s legs and Uncle Qrow’s arm out of her way. Upright the image was even more impossible and though Ruby felt strangely removed from her body, she knew without a doubt that her mouth was hanging open, that her hands were making surprised little spasm motions along the net’s rope. Because everyone who came out of the trees walked upright, had faces and arms and legs like people... but they had animal parts too. Ruby saw a girl whose skin was composed of scales like a lizard’s, and whose eyes blinked with double lids as she stared back. Another woman hissed with a spider’s fangs. She saw men with hair like fur and young boys spouting tails. One man stepped to the front of the pack. He had white horns growing out of his forehead. They curved wickedly, well over a foot long and glinting sharp.

 

“Wow,” Ruby whispered.

 

“Not until we’ve had a chance to speak.” The man addressed Uncle Qrow, spreading his arms in mockery. He even gave a little bow. When Uncle Qrow only cursed and spun the man laughed. It grated, like a dull knife against stone.

 

Ruby felt her awe fading. She narrowed her eyes.

 

“We have welcomed you, haven’t we?” He chuckled again and there was no true humor in it. Ruby didn’t think she’d ever heard such a thing before. It was wrong. Just like their magic.

 

Ruby pictured that signpost and swallowed compulsively, her stomach suddenly roiling with nausea. Because this was her fault, wasn’t it? She didn’t know what she would have done differently, or where else they would have gone, but the fact remained that she’d stepped up and she’d gotten them caught—literally. Ruby drew in a deep breath. Maybe she could fix it though. Maybe these people (because they _were_ people, she was sure, no matter what they might look like) would listen to her. This was definitely just a mistake and Ruby could get them to send her home.

 

Oh, she really wanted to go home. Ruby wanted her Dad and Zwei and Yang when she wasn’t so scared. She wanted Uncle Qrow’s soft voice instead of that shout.

 

...she also wanted to go back and bring Ozpin home too. Ruby didn’t care what Uncle Qrow or Yang said. He was nice. And he seemed so lonely.

 

Maybe these guys were lonely too? You could be lonely even while surrounded by lots of people. Ruby knew that.

 

She opened her mouth to say hello and was cut off by a cry from Yang. Ruby jerked, head whipping to see what was wrong. Yang wasn’t injured—she knew the sound of his sister in pain—but she was mad. The whole net thrashed as Yang tried to kick and break her way through. Ruby caught a flash of white as she bit into the rope.

 

Then, in a flash, of them drew a blade and settled it between Yang’s eyes. One moment the air was clear, the next it smelled of metal and the sunlight glinted off a sharp edge. Ruby’s breath caught. Yang stilled.

 

The man hummed. “Yes, I don’t like the look of that one. Keep your weapon at the ready.”

 

The girl inched her blade closer. “Yes, sir.”

 

“Good girl, Blake.”

 

Blake.

 

Amidst the fear something like hope flared up in Ruby’s chest. She’d been right then. They weren’t things or creatures or unfathomable monsters. That girl had a _name_. If she had a name then she had everything else that was important too—things like dreams and desires and a family.

 

Ruby curled her fingers into the net, pulling it apart to see better. The girl, Blake… she looked young too, probably only a year or so older than Yang…and she was _gorgeous_ , in the way anything new and strange caught the eye. Ruby felt her mouth dropping open again as she took in Blake's built body, strong abs and shoulders revealed by the simple black crop-top and low cut pants, loose enough that she could easily run or fight in them. With long black hair and sharp features, she would have been stunning no matter what... even without the cat ears and tail. They were a soft black as well—though covered in fur, rather than hair—and the insides of her ears and the tip of that tail were a faint purple, looking like little swatches of velvet. Ruby strained and caught a good look at her face. She'd been right. Those gold eyes had black slits down the middle, just like a cat's.

 

Who were these people?

 

Ruby only realized she'd asked that aloud when the leader's head turned her way. He smirked, so slow and condescending that Ruby heard her knuckles cracking as her grip on the net tightened.

 

Instead of answering the man just as slowly stepped forward, seeming to size Ruby up—and finding her wanting. Blake did the same, a quick judging glance before she decided that Ruby wasn't any real threat. She kept her sword pointed at Yang.

 

That, more than anything set Ruby's teeth on edge. Not just that they were threatening her sister—which _no_ —but that they were underestimating her, laughing at her even. She could see it in all their expressions. Maybe Ruby couldn't use super cool weapons or magic-y things, but if that guy got just a little bit closer she could get ahold of his arm and _bite,_ like Yang had wanted to.

 

Ruby had learned from the best sister after all. The human jaw was a strong muscle and she knew how to use it. Ruby could break skin. Easy.

 

Maybe some of those thoughts registered on her face because the guy stopped just a foot or so away. He did lean in just a little more though, tilting his head like he was examining a particularly strange animal he'd caught.

 

The irony wasn't lost on Ruby.

 

"How old are you?" he asked, and didn't wait for an answer. "Why, you're just a cub. Too young to remember our kind, obviously. You though," his eyes flicked to Uncle Qrow. "Oh... you've _hunted_ us. I can tell, boy. I can smell it on you."

 

Ruby twisted and fell a bit, trying to get a look at Uncle Qrow, and when she did she found his expression hard as stone...and disgusted. Ruby had never seen an expression like that before, not on his face anyway, and she glanced desperately over his head at Yang. She looked just as confused and scared, alternating between watching them and keeping an eye on that sword.

 

Uncle Qrow finally titled his head, a reflection of the man. "Funny," he said. "You seem to be the one doing the hunting."

 

"...ha. Yes, it's a lovely little trap, isn't it?" A chuckle rippled through the group like they'd shared some private joke. "A little something of my own devising. I appreciate the combination of magic and good old fashioned ingenuity." He rested a hand on the netting, sadly too far up for Ruby to make a grab. "There's beauty in simplicity too, isn't there? You follow the path, you end up here. Your curiosity is so... predictable."

 

Laughter again and Ruby's cheeks got hotter than the sun. Because yeah, she'd done that, just waltzed up even when she'd been told to be careful. She _always_ did that. But there'd been a sign and a circle and who wouldn't want to get a closer look?

 

She guessed that was the point.

 

"We're very impressed." Uncle Qrow said dryly. "Now, you'd best let me and my girls the fuck out of this shit before I—"

 

" _Hey!_ "

 

Ruby didn't get to hear what promise Uncle Qrow would have made because the cry game from Blake, softer and more panicked than Ruby would have imagined her sounding. Those were thoughts for the back of her mind though, thready and far away, because while everyone had their eyes trained on the leader and Uncle Qrow, Yang had apparently reached through the netting and grabbed hold of Blake's wrist. Ruby caught just the tail end of the scuffle: Yang pulling, twisting, and leveraging so that the sword came forward and cut into the portion of net directly beside her, rather than straight through her face. She'd created a decent sized hole before the girl managed to reclaim her weapon.

 

She stumbled back and hissed at Yang.

 

Yang poked her head through the hole she'd made and grinned, feral. "C'mon. Come back here. Leave my uncle and sis alone."

 

Blake kept her distance.

 

An amused bark rose up from the leader even as the rest of his group eyed one another warily. He chortled as Blake straightened, dusting off her pants and keeping a careful, protective hold on her weapon. She thus missed his hand coming up from behind. He grabbed hold of her hair—yanking forcefully.

 

Blake didn't make a sound, but Ruby gasped in her stead. She heard Uncle Qrow's sharp intake of breath and even Yang's expression changed.

 

It was hard to fear someone when they were cringing too.

 

"I told you to _watch her_ ," the man hissed directly into one of her human ears. In case that wasn't enough he pulled Blake down further and whispered something else into her cat ear. Ruby watched Blake go unnaturally still.

 

"Yes, Adam," she said.

 

"Good," and Adam released her hair. Blake stumbled forward.

 

"My apologies," he said, spreading his hands. "You certainly like excitement though, don't you? We have that in common."

 

Yang bared her teeth and Ruby did her best to stand, trying to look intimidating with wobbly footing and a weak, exhausted body. She was aware now more than ever of how little they'd slept or eaten. Still—

 

"We have nothing in common," she spit. It was a lie—she felt the lie on her tongue—but right now she was too mad to care. Ruby shook the net as she felt Uncle Qrow steading her from behind.

 

"Perhaps, perhaps not. That remains to be seen, after all." Adam smiled and Ruby noted how white and straight his teeth were. Bad people shouldn't be that handsome. "It's been quite a while since we've gotten to judge any of your kind."

 

"...judge?" Uncle Qrow said, his voice cracking for the first time.

 

"Quite. Take them."

 

The fear surged in Ruby again. It was like having command over an element. Adam's words sent the whole group at them, like a wave or a wall of fire coming to claim them. Ruby only had enough time to cry out and hear her family doing the same before the net suddenly dropped, weapons near vulnerable skin, hands and tails grabbing every, exposed part of them. She caught a glimpse Blake pinning Yang's arms as she struggled, of four men subduing Uncle Qrow... and then someone had come for Ruby too.

 

She didn't know if it was intentional or not, but one of those fists came flying in from the left. Ruby looked up, wide-eyed, her world became a picture of knuckles and scales—

 

—and then everything went black.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! *throws confetti* This summer is kicking my ass, but here: have a small update :)

 

"That's not going to work, kid."

Yang was very aware that it wasn't working, thanks, but that didn't mean she didn't enjoy the attempt. There was just something really satisfying about kicking the same spot again and again and _again_.

With a yell Yang reared her right leg back and slammed it into the wall—nearly toppling back on her butt. It felt like she was kicking rubber instead of wood. With an inarticulate growl of rage she dropped and scrambled her hands along the logs, searching for the feel of bark or a seam to curl her fingers into. All Yang found though was a faint crackling along her skin, like the fuzz of static electricity on flannel sheets. There was nothing to see, but that didn't mean there wasn't anything there. She snapped her hands back, lest she get shocked.

"Force-field," Uncle Qrow said. He was leaning against the wall next to Yang. His eyes were closed, seemingly unconcerned with the feeling that must have been crawling up his back. "Wards. Magic sphere. The Line..." He opened his eyes and shrugged. "There's a lot of names for it. Point is you're not getting through there, firecracker."

Yang ground her teeth. "You're not even gonna help me _try_?"

"Nope."

"Well you should!"

"Why? Save your energy for the fight."

Oh. That shut Yang up. Her eyes slid to the door they'd been thrown through earlier, the one that—duh—had to open again at some point, regardless of whether they ever got through the force-thingy or whatever. And when it did there would be someone to punch. Yang was good at that. She was ready.

...well, maybe in a few minutes. The fight drained out of her all at once and Yang slid down beside Uncle Qrow, shoulder resting against shoulder. She scooped up a handful of dirt and let it run back through her fingers.

"It's just a hut," she said.

It seemed to encompass everything and Uncle Qrow didn't bother to answer what was really a rhetorical statement. Because after all, everything was a 'just' the last few days. Just a quick trip into the woods. Just a broken down cottage. Just some strange, completely coincidental incidents that Yang was sure she could explain if she was back home, safe in her own, logical bed. The hut they'd been thrown into was no more normal or odd than any other hut Yang had come across. There were walls and a roof, bedding on the floor and a few simple chairs, one table off to the side as if they'd actually sit and entertain guests. It was all so _normal_. There was nothing here to suggest that it wasn't a locked door keeping them in, or that the people who'd built the stuff weren't... weren't...

"What are they?" Yang whispered.

She could feel Uncle Qrow sigh through her arm. "Not 'what,' kid. Who. It's that sort of thinking that landed us in this mess in the first place." He paused, a rueful expression crossing his face. "Well, sort of. If we're countin' back generations, is what I'm saying." Uncle Qrow slid a hand down his thigh and found empty air, remembering again that their few belongings had been taken away. Yang guiltily looked down at her boot where the photograph was still carefully folded, hidden away. "Fuck I need a drink."

With a huff Yang pulled her legs back up and knocked against Uncle Qrow's side. "No you don't. You need to make sense. What are you talking about?"

"Hell if I know."

" _Uncle Qrow_."

"Wait for your sister," and having nothing to do with his hands Uncle Qrow raised one to his forehead while the other gripped the fabric of his pants extra hard. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply like he might be falling asleep, but Yang knew he wasn't.

He just got like this sometimes. Dad did too.

"Fine," she muttered and crawled away.

There really wasn't anywhere to go. The hut was small and Yang knew she'd just get more antsy if she started pacing the short strides between wall and other wall. Instead she followed the edge around the room, her hand barely skimming that crackling field. Yang went around twice before she stopped at one of the chairs. Ruby was propped up against it.

The time since they'd been thrown in here felt like hours instead of minutes, kind of like how leaving home felt like years instead of days. Yang knew, in a detached sort of way, that she should be freaking out about things. That she _was_ freaking out, just quiet and internal and not at all like her normal self—which she supposed was the point. So. There were enchanted cabins out in their woods. Men who could do crazy, impossible things. There used to be monsters roaming around and—no. There were _still_ monsters. Yang had seen them, half-animals crawling out of trees and pointing sharp, awful weapons at the tender flesh of her cheeks. Her limbs got really cold just thinking about it. Yang hated them. She looked at the bruise on Ruby's forehead and hated them _so very much_.

Not as much as she hated herself though.

"This is my fault," she whispered, too low for even Uncle Qrow to hear. Yang gently brushed a bit of hair out of Ruby's face. "I dragged you out here, sis. I'm sorry"

The selfish part of Yang knew, without a doubt, that Ruby would hit her for that. Sit up straight with a pout and a huff, announcing in a shrill voice that she'd wanted to go too and Yang was so not the boss of her! Yang didn't totally it, but she still wanted to hear it. Needed to, really. 

Ruby hadn't been out for long. It was too long though.

"She'll wake," Uncle Qrow said, startling her. "Rosebud took a nasty hit—" Yang heard the revenge in those words, "—but she'll come out of it. Just give her a bit of sp—"

A knock sounded at the door.

The two of them froze and then a split second later Uncle Qrow was crouched on his toes, all evidence of exhaustion gone. He reached again for any kind of weapon on his person, found none, shrugged, and silently raised a fist. He was poised and ready at the door's edge by the time Yang had only just scrambled to her feet. Uncle Qrow gestured sharply for her to keep back.

"I know what you're doing," a voice said. It eased into the hut on a wave, like a radio that was fading as you got further and further away. Yang wondered dimly if that was the magic. Still, the voice wasn't any less intimidating for sounding distorted.

"Don't be stupid about this," it said. "I have weapons, you don't. I have backup, you don't. If you try anything I'll go after your cubs first."

Yang watched as Uncle Qrow gnashed his teeth together. They caught eyes and as a pair looked to Ruby, even more defenseless than the two of them. Yang made sure to plant herself directly in front of her sister even as Uncle Qrow released his fist.

It wasn't a defeated gesture though, just one of patience. He drew in a massive breath. He let it out.

"Shit," he said loudly. "I ran into this creep who thrashed me, been walking for what feels like forever, you lot scrunched me up in a goddamn net... yeah. Alright, missy. I'll play nice."

The door opened and the air fizzled, a breeze blowing through and something fell away. Yang felt like she could breath properly again and sound came back into focus. She wasn't sure how Uncle Qrow had known it was a girl, but Yang had bigger things to think about once she saw which girl. Her. Blake.

"For now," Uncle Qrow finished.

Blake nodded, just a slow tilt of her head, and everything was off kilter. Yang might not be able to see things like Ruby sometimes did, but even she could notice that Blake wasn't very scary any more, like pulling back a curtain and finding that it was just someone pretending to be a monster back there. Blake might have a weapon, but it was strapped to her hip rather than pointed at Yang's face. They knew for sure that she did have backup... but they weren't actually there to help her out. It was just Blake, standing alone in the doorway with two plates in her hands.

Yang wanted to say something daring and cutting. Instead her stomach rumbled extra loud.

And wonder of wonders: Blake smiled. Or maybe she smirked. It wasn't anything large and it certainly wasn't happy, but it was there. Just a thin, quick twitch of her lips that nevertheless had Yang stifling a gasp. Because she'd seen all sorts of strange and horrible things lately. One meager smile shouldn't have felt like a punch to the gut.

But it did.

Even Uncle Qrow relaxed a little. He straightened, immediately raising his hands in surrender. He eyed the plates.

"Don't try anything," Blake said again. Her voice wavered.

"I'm not. We're not. You gonna feed us sometime this year though?"

It was an act of trust for both parties. It shouldn't have worked, not after that first introduction, but Blake did take a step forward and Yang did hold her ground. She honestly couldn't say yet if the trembling in her legs was an eagerness to get at the food or Blake's throat. Yang tried to visualize wrapping her hands around that delicate windpipe, squeezing with all the strength in her arms... but all she could really see was white.

Blake set the plates down on the ground and the two of them went at it like dogs.

Yang hadn't realized how _hungry_ she was until she actually got to smell the food, feel it between her fingers and pass it by her lips. They'd been wandering too long to even know how long that was—which was, of course, too long all around. It was simple fare, like what Ozpin had given them, but even that reminder wasn't enough to slow her down. Yang skid to her knees and pulled the plate into her lap, scooping up rice and some kind of meat directly into her mouth, going so far as to devour the long cuts of asparagus like they were candy. No utensils were offered them and she didn't ask for any. Yang wasn't stupid.

"Your friend will get some when she wakes," Blake said. She looked at Ruby, still sleeping limply against the chair. "We didn't mean to harm anyone. Sorry."

If Uncle Qrow's face was comically surprised, Yang could only imagine what she looked like in that moment. Dad had once joked that he'd need pliers and an hour of patience to get a 'sorry' out of her, especially when she was actually in the wrong. Now here was this wild... _thing_ dropping the s-word like it was easy. Like she wasn't holding them hostage and shit.

Yang stuffed more food into her mouth.

Blake meanwhile leaned against the doorway and idly fiddled with the handle of her sword. Her tail made a steady swish-swish sound in the silence.

Uncle Qrow watched the movement. "Cannibalism?" he asked jauntily, pausing to lift a thinly sliced piece of meat. He dangled it cruelly and didn't even flinch when Blake hissed at him.

"We're not _deer_ ," she snapped. "We're not animals."

"No?"

"No!"

"Alright," and he went right back to eating, like nothing at all had passed between them. It felt like some kind of test. Yang didn't know what to say though so she just did the same, forcing herself to slow and not vomit it all back up. Within a few minutes Uncle Qrow finally came up with a gasp. Yang was still scraping crumbs into her palm, but he wiped a hand across his mouth and lifted the plate, considering. He turned the pristine porcelain so it faced toward Blake, rolling the edge between his palms.

"You know, I could smash this," Uncle Qrow said. "Right here. It’s easy enough to do. Now I've got a jagged shard the size of a small knife. You're tough, but you're small, kid. I rush you, get under your legs, get this at the base of your throat." He demonstrated with an index finger, a bit of rice still stuck to one knuckle. "Then we sneak out quiet. Firecracker here is more than enough backup for me..." Uncle Qrow lifted the plate and flipped it once. "Giving us these was sloppy."

Yang let go of her own plate slowly. She had eyes only for Blake, and hers were unnaturally... still. Dead, even. Despite the earlier smile and the anger, the quick flares and flip-flops of emotion, Yang couldn't glean anything from Blake now. It looked like all the life had just bled out of her in a rush and for some reason Yang caught a spot of color under the band of her shirt. It looked like a bruise. Like how the grip on her hair had sounded, when Blake had cried out through her teeth.

"You'd never make it out of here." She said it soft and honest. "There's so many of us, more than your kind want to believe, and his magic—" Blake swallowed. "You can't beat him."

Uncle Qrow tapped the plate. "Then why give me this? You're not that stupid."

"I'm not. You can still rush me."

Blake didn't unsheathe her weapon. Yang wasn't sure she would.

"Uncle Qrow?" she asked.

"Give me your plate," and as soon as Yang did Uncle Qrow tossed them both back at Blake's feet, unbroken. "You don't mean that, kid. If you're gonna fight, fight. If not, get the hell out of our way." For the first time Uncle Qrow turned his back on Blake to look at Yang. "I'm an impulsive shit, eh Firecracker? But I can follow two simple rules in a fight: be patient when you need to and know who your enemy is. Girls not much older than you ain't the enemy, even if they do wanna act all tough."

Yang didn't think Blake's toughness was an act and she certainly didn't appreciate that comment, taking a step into the room that kicked up dust and sent a shiver of energy through what remained of the barrier. Yang was reaching a hand out towards her before she even realized she was doing it, to—what? Hit her? Keep her from Ruby? Her mind was numb except for a brief, traitorous thought that said Blake's fur looked _soft_ and Yang had to bite hard into her tongue to get it to shut up.

When she finally spoke it was with the taste of blood in her mouth.

"What are they going to do to us?"

Despite it all, 'they' felt right and Yang didn't take it back. When Blake met her gaze there might have been a bit of regret there.

"You're to be judged," she said.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter for the greatest readers on all of AO3! 
> 
> I'll be honest with you all, this story is turning out VERY differently than I had intended (ever feel like the characters have a life of their own?) This was supposed to be a, 'Yang and Ruby run off, find Ozpin, have cute bonding moments, and Oz gets adopted into the family yay!' semi-shortness. Instead it's growing into a MUCH larger tale--as I've hinted at and as Chapter 12 in particular will demonstrate. So please bear with me as I work out plot kinks and (hopefully not too horribly) stumble my way through this :) 
> 
> Happy reading!

_~Three little chicks all laid out in a line~_

The nursery rhyme came to Ozpin unbidden, worming its way into his thoughts and settling there without permission. It was old and nonsensical, as many such things were, yet it seemed oddly appropriate for the occasion.

_~Hard boiled, soft boiled, seasoned with wine~_

Qrow, Ruby, and Yang were lined up before the Faunus, forced onto their knees to await judgment. Ozpin had only learned the former's name in passing, two women with snake skin speaking quick and cutting about their prisoners. It amused him that a man had a name so obviously tied to his ability. He wondered if Qrow had developed his magic at an age young enough to warrant such a name (the image of an infant periodically becoming a fledging was quite something), or perhaps his name held sway over his magic—for names indeed had great power. He'd have to ask him sometime, provided he didn't die first.

Ozpin's nails dug into the bark of the tree. Yes, because what did _not_ amuse him was the wanton destruction of his friends.

 _They're not your friends_ , an inner voice mocked, one of many _. You don't even know them. The girls came to you out of necessity and Qrow thinks you kidnapped them. He_ hates _you, or have you not noticed your reflection lately?_

Far from it. Ozpin touched the raised scar, petting it gently. It soothed him a little.

 _They are kind, good people,_ he retorted. _I care for them even if they don't care for me. Friendship need not be a two-way street._

_Like you'd know._

Fair enough. It wasn't as if Ozpin was very knowledgeable on that subject.

For now he leaned casually against the tree's trunk, confident that no one would notice him, despite being close enough to hear the conversation. The Faunus may have once been renowned for their nature-based magic—and apparently still were—but that meant little to Ozpin. He would not be seen unless he wished to.

It used to be such a tactical advantage: to sever the throat of an enemy before they even knew he was there.

Ozpin shivered in the sunlight.

"Give it back!" Ruby shrieked, breaking whatever stillness remained. She, like her family, had her knees planted in the dirt and her arms bound tightly behind her. She wrenched them up high enough that for an awful moment Ozpin thought she'd dislocate a shoulder. "That's not yours, that’s not yours, _give it back!_ "

"What, this? Surely you're not so worked up over a little bit of cloth?"

A Faunus, the one Ozpin presumed to be their leader, stepped forward and he carried with him an aura of intimidation. It didn't escape Ozpin's notice that his followers kept a healthy distance and that one, the cat Faunus at his right hand, had her tail standing nearly straight up, the fur all the way to the purple tip bristling. In a much more human gesture she bit her lip, glancing between her captors and the man in charge.

Interesting.

"Play nice, Adam," Qrow said. He titled his head. "It was Adam, wasn't it? I'd really hate to be rude when you've provided us with such _stellar_ accommodations." When Adam didn't accept the game that Qrow was playing, he shrugged. "Look. You're powerful, we're not. You've made that pretty fucking clear. Just give it back already. What's the girl gonna do with a silly old cloak?"

Ruby had her teeth bared slightly, still straining against her bonds.

"Nothing," Adam said. "I could give you a full armory and you'd still be helpless against me." He smiled, pointed and sharp. "But give it back? Oh no, no, no. Why would I do that when it so clearly pains her to have it out of reach? I wish you'd woken sooner, little cub. I'd have watched you squirm more."

Adam took Ruby's cloak then—handled roughly and with little care--and tossed it around his own shoulders. From his vantage point Ozpin couldn't quite make out the young girl's expression, but he easily caught the iron stiffening of her shoulders. The whole glade held their breath as Adam took the hood and flipped it casually over his head.

The fabric caught on his horns and as he lifted his chin, it ripped.

" _No—!_ " Yang said, though at Ruby rather than Adam. She didn't have use of her arms to hold her sister back, but she did as best she could with legs and superior bodyweight. As the two girls flailed Qrow calmly looked up at their captors.

"I'll kill you," he announced. There was nothing arrogant about the words. Just a simple statement of fact.

Ozpin, meanwhile, had bit so deep into the bark of the tree that large flakes had come off, silently littering the grass he stood on. It was only this that had him easing his grip. The Faunus were well attuned to all manner of natural things, even moreso those that they lived among, and if anything might give his position away, it was a disturbance among the trees. Ozpin let his arm drop, seething.

 _Why don't you fight?_ the voice whispered. It was no-one's and everyone's at once. _You have the power. Why just stand there?_

_Because I need to learn._

Fighting had earned him little in ages past. Passivity, despite what he'd convinced himself for so very long, had not allowed the perfect world to flourish as Ozpin had hopped. The continued existence of magic ( _the existence of those people_ ) drove him out of his home; a long-dormant feeling of curiosity, tangled with the wisdom that coincidence were just not a part of his existence. Now though? Now Ozpin knew that magic was not just in the hands of sweet girls and protective uncles. He had to find a middle ground before he made his decision.

So he watched.

"I don't doubt it," Adam was saying. His tone was that of an adult humoring a child and his smile only added to the mockery. He fiddled with the edge of Ruby's cloak. "I said it before, didn't I? You've hunted us. I should kill you now for that alone."

There was a cheer of agreement from the crowd surrounding him. There were roughly twenty Faunus clustered in the clearing, but their voices and weapons; their literal and figurative animal traits, made them seem like an army. Ozpin carefully noted who took up the cry with enthusiasm and who seemed to do it out of self-preservation. There were far too many of the first. Only one other than Adam kept completely silent. The cat Faunus stood with glazed eyes, her tail now drooping.

"Uncle Qrow?" Yang asked softly. She seemed to have some control over Ruby now, the girl's forehead pressed into the dirt. "What are they talking about?"

Qrow leaned back on his heels, managing to grin even in the face of such unrivaled hatred. He shrugged as much as his bonds would allow. "Nonsense, kid. Or rather, their version of the truth. Your dad never did much like my work, even if it did bring in the lien for you girls." He hesitated, for the first time actually looking off balance. Ozpin knew, deep in his bones, that Qrow was not talking to Adam or the other Faunus now. This was purely a conversation for family. They—he—had no right to witness this.

Which didn't lessen the fact that they did. Maybe that's why Qrow shrugged casually again, only the skin around his eyes overly tight.

"Some call me a bounty hunter," he said quietly. "But for most 'hunter' does just fine. I find people when they need to be found." Ruby had turned her face in the dirt and the girls' combined stares forced him to continue. "They always think they can escape in Patch's woods. You know," Qrow ground his teeth a moment. "You _know_ , kid. Criminals. Outlaws. Men who owe other men money..."

"Faunus with pretty coats that rich women want to wear, or eyes that would look just lovely on a doll," Adam hissed.

"I never!" Qrow turned on his knees, glaring fiercely. "Other shits might have pulled that, but not me! Any Faunus I ever brought in—and there were only two—had done far worse than I ever have. I might be an asshole, but I'm less of a blight on this world than any of them. Any of you too, for that matter. And that might not be saying much, but that's more than enough for me."

Qrow stared up defiantly. The cat Faunus was one of only a few to look away.

_~Mother Bird wept and Father Bird whined~_

"What is this about?" Ruby cried. With a push of her shoulder she got Yang off of her, rolling back onto her knees to stare up at Adam. "I don't care what Uncle Qrow does! Because he wouldn't do _this_. He wouldn't—wouldn't—" She deflated all at once, leaning against her sister. "We were just trying to get home."

"Well you're a far way off from there, little cub." Adam bent, just close enough that the girls stiffened and Qrow strained. "Not many make it into our woods anymore. Oh no, only a few. Mostly those fools who went and re-entangled themselves with the lives of men. We've worked hard to fall into myth—due to _your_ oppression—and if anyone compromises that...well. We let human judgment catch up with them." Adam's eyes strayed to Qrow. "A few others though... they'll wander. The travelers and the desperate and those who think it's safe to explore. As if our home exists for their entertainment. Hilarious. But a new day is dawning and now there must be true judgment before the kill. Poor unlucky cub. Your fate is already sealed. I can _smell_ it on you."

Ruby paled a little as Adam pressed the edge of her cloak to his nose. "What are you talking about?"

"Magic, girl. It's as pungent as your uncle's violence."

It obviously didn't come as a shock to Ozpin, not after he'd seen those eyes, but apparently it wasn't a shock to the family either. Ruby seemed to take it in a stride, no doubt mentally cataloguing all the times she'd seen something her sister couldn't, the instances of play where she knew just when to doge, or could tell where another friend hid without hearing a giggle, catching sight of some movement. It had begun as such for Ozpin too, such a powerful force expressed through innocence. Ruby looked to Yang who gave her a forced, trembling smile. Qrow just hung his head.

"So what if she's still got some," he said to the dirt. "Plenty of people do. That doesn't give you the fucking right to hold her!"

"No," Adam said coldly. "'Plenty' is a gross exaggeration."

All at once he tore the cloak from his back as if he couldn't stand to have it touching his skin anymore and Ruby cried out as it was tossed to the ground, still just out of reach. Adam stalked towards his group and they parted obediently, some going so far as to stumble out of his way. His horns made him appear taller and broader than the whole lot of them. Each step seemed to shake and dent the earth as he made his way to the tree behind his followers.

It was an oak of immense size… and the only dead thing around. The shadows around its base resembled the night sky and its bare branches were as disconcerting as any bleached bones.

And while everyone else held their breath—while Adam's presence held their attention just as fast—Ozpin was the only one who saw the cat Faunus moving in the opposite direction. With the softest gesture that spoke of betrayal, she used the toe of her boot to ease the cloak nearer to Yang. At once she snatched it up, pressing it into Ruby's waiting arms like a talisman.

The three of them looked to the Faunus and something passed among them. Ozpin thought it again: Interesting.

But then Adam was back and he didn't have time to think about this young girl's place in his friends’ lives (or Ozpin's place in theirs). Adam carried with him a broken vine from the tree’s base, just as dead as its mother: tough and brittle, too gray, bearing leaves that crumbled as he walked. The dead things seemed obscene amongst all the lush foliage around them, to say nothing of the eternal day. The others scattered away from it. Adam carried it with such focus that he didn't even mention Ruby reclaiming her cloak—if he noticed it at all.

"A new day is dawning," he said again. "One without the taint of magic. Or rather, without the kind that your species possess." Adam smiled, though eyes weren't quite focused on them. “Our work, for now, is humble. We guide and entrap any who stray into our territory, and then we judge them, _test_ them for magic." Adam raised the vine. A murmur swept through the crowd. "If you are free then you are literally free to go." He chuckled. "Though if you're not... well, we'll give you a relatively painless death."

The _shing_ of swords unsheathed and the nocking of bows filled the air. The cat Faunus took out her clever sword too, though it stayed pointed at the ground.

Ozpin took a step closer.

"But why?” Ruby insisted. With her cloak back in her lap she was steadier, more willing to hear and be heard in turn. "Magic isn't evil. We're not and you're not—" she hesitated on that last declaration, seeing only cold stares towering above her. " _Why?_ "

"To reclaim our place of course. To re-build a world in our image. He promised us power and I for one believe him." Adam considered. "Well, not really. But we'll help him eradicate your kind and turn on him next. It's the natural way of things. Our magic will be the only one to prevail, cub. Do not doubt it."

Qrow rose up, one foot planted firm on the ground. "Who the hell are you talking about?"

"King Schnee. Who else?"

In the stunned silence of that Adam took the vine in hand and snapped it like a whip. It shot out and in an instant had wrapped around Yang's neck, causing a cry to tear from Ruby even as Yang’s own gasp was cut off. Ozpin watched it happen in a slowness of his own devising, seeing the exact moment that the crumbled vine touched Yang's skin—and began to leech from her. A faint, golden aura could be seen as the vine fed, morphing quickly from a petrified and useless corpse to a lively plant. The whole crowd hissed as in his hand the vine grew green again and spouted new, tentative leaves.

"So it runs in the family," Adam sneered.

" _Stop it!_ "

Ozpin thought it came from Ruby until he saw the cat Faunus diving forward, trying to wrench the vine away. She only succeeded in cutting her hands on the quickly growing thorns. With a cry of pain she staggered back, but reared up and came down hard with her sword instead. The vine turned to ash as soon as it was severed.

Yang fell forward, heaving.

"Blake," Adam said.

It was the moment Ozpin had been waiting for. His patience had paid off. He let his glamor drop and his anger rise, a thrill running through him the likes of which he hadn't experienced in generations. Around him the other Faunus had taken note of the furious betrayal in Adam's voice, turning their weapons towards not three, but now four innocents. All were judged for death. Adam had smelled the magic in Ruby, tested it in Yang, and now they all saw it in Qrow—the black bird that suddenly appeared to slip its bonds and dive towards Adam. Ozpin was just a step behind.

And as he once more entered battle that silly, foolish rhyme tumbled through his thoughts.

_~Three little chicks all laid out in a line_

_Soft boiled, hard boiled, seasoned with wine_

_Mother Bird wept and Father Bird whined_

_For what stupid little chicks they had_

_To sit_

_And wait_

_And let the monster dine~_

_No,_ Ozpin thought. _We will not sit quiet today._


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey, shitty author here with an update! Check out the end notes for more info on some of the inspiration for this chapter. <3 
> 
> Also, a WARNING that this chapter contains homophobia as well as brief, domestic abuse.

_~Three weeks earlier~_

With hair as white as snow...

Weiss fiddled with hers as it spread across the divan, noting that it was only a shade darker than the immaculate cushions: just as fine and nearly as pure. One might say that her hair was indeed white, but that would lead only to a reprimand by the King's men, the threat, even, of treason. After all, human girls didn't have white hair. They sported browns, blacks, and the occasional red—silver when they got old enough to need walking sticks. No. Weiss' hair was a very, very light blonde. To say otherwise would imply that there was something unnatural about her and her family. Perhaps even... magical.

But of course, no one would be fool enough to suggest such a thing.

"You'll ruin all of Sage's hard work, lying like that."

Weiss sighed, turning her head delicately now that she was under observation. It was only Klein though, bustling in with a tray of sandwiches, sweets, and—Weiss wrinkled her nose—a large pot of coffee. He set it all on her dresser and as he did Weiss watched his back, the pull and tightening his starched-white collar.

She made a disgusted noise up at the ceiling.

"I told Sage I didn't want any of this," she said, gesturing. "My normal ponytail is _fine_."

Weiss was well aware that her tone was bordering on a whine. She had discussed this with her father a great deal of late. Princesses, especially those of her age, certainly did not whine like some uncultured commoner. They spoke carefully, persuasively, and with an indifferent air that nevertheless had an undercurrent of passion. Weiss didn't really know how she was meant to achieve all that, but she was sure it would come to her eventually.

"It was unnecessary," she added, tacking on a haughty sniff. There. That sounded just like Mother.

The look Klein cast her was distinctly amused. "Oh? You don't think it's necessary to dress up for your own marriage? Huh. I would have thought quite the opposite..."

"Well I'm not getting married today, now am I?"

"No, but there's the ball. You do know how important first impressions are."

She did. In just a few days Weiss would celebrate her 12th birthday, the standard Coming of Age within the Kingdom, and though nothing would be expected of her for many, many years, it was, she was told, time to choose a husband—for political ties if nothing else. That had thrown Weiss so fully that she'd spent the last six months fiercely demanding a wife, so much so that the fact that she didn't want to get married at _all_ had somehow gotten lost in negotiations.

She was to meet her Prospectives tonight. Weiss ground her teeth until they ached.

"Now, now, none of that."

Klein bustled over as he saw her tensing—he'd always been good at that—and waved a very full plate in front of her nose, wafting the scents towards her in an exaggerated fashion until Weiss finally sat up, trying her hardest not to crack a smile. The food did smell nice, not that she'd expect anything else from their kitchens. And Klein had included a molasses cookie, which he knew was her favorite. Still, Weiss couldn't get her hand to pick anything up and start eating.

Fingers touched her hair and Weiss jerked. Oh. But it was Klein. Of _course_ it was Klein. He hummed, waiting patiently until she settled to pat the last few strands back into place. Sage really had done a marvelous job, taking Weiss' long strands and coaxing them into elaborate braids that crisscrossed like a basket, forming what was quite obviously meant to be a crown around her head. Weiss could feel the weight of it.

"This is absurd,” she muttered. “What if I don't like them?" After a moment of hesitation she amended, "What if they don't like me?"

Klein scoffed. He folded his hands and sat down beside her, hip-to-hip and very warm. That worry, that _need_ , wasn't something that Weiss could admit to just anyone and Klein gave it the appropriate amount of reflection, finally nodding as if speaking to himself. He finally turned and regarded Weiss quite seriously.

"Who is the smartest person in the castle?" he asked. "Besides yourself of course."

Weiss bit back another smile. "Not father." She whispered it like the deadly secret it was. Klein raised an eyebrow.

"Certainly not."

"Not Whitley."

"Heavens no!"

"Since Mother so often isn't _in_ the castle and everyone else is just cleaning, cooking, doing other menial chores..." Weiss tapped a finger against her chin, considering. "I suppose the smartest person here—other than myself, as you say—must be you, Klein."

The compliment, expected as it was, made his mustache twitch. "Well! _I_ like you and by this logic anyone who does not must be a real fool, mm? And we don't suffer them gladly, now do we? Go on. Please, Princess. Eat while it's still edible."

Weiss' smile faded. Klein was good at making her smile, laugh even, but only for the time the two of them were allowed to ignore their responsibilities. Too short, as always. Weiss took a perfect little triangle of a sandwich and tried to enjoy it, useless as it was. She knew Klein was right. It was going to be a very long week and she'd need her strength, starting tonight.

The pungent smell of coffee grew stronger as Klein poured her a cup. He tisked at Weiss' wrinkled nose.

"You must learn to drink it," he sighed. "A proper lady--to say nothing of a princess—must be able to have both tea and coffee with her acquaintances. We'll get to wine later, but for now..." Klein gently pushed the cup towards her. Even sweetened with cream the sight made Weiss' stomach churn.

Still. She picked up the cup between thumb and forefinger, gently raising it to her lips. Weiss took a careful, delicate sip, her expression giving nothing away.

"Good girl."

Weiss set the cup back in the saucer, proud that it didn't shake. "How do you know so much about being a princess, Klein?"

"I had to learn to teach you, didn't I?"

Of course.

“Eat. There’s much to do.”

“Yes, Klein.”

So Weiss ate, methodically, and when she caught her reflection in the muddy coffee, she found herself quite pale. Everything, she noticed, was white.

***

The ball had begun.

The sandwich, coffee, and cookie that Weiss had forced down earlier were now coming back to haunt her and she had to press a hand delicately to her mouth to keep it all down. That was alright though. That was a Suitable gesture. It could mean anything from hidden laughter to socially acceptable derision. The fact that no one else was around to judge Weiss was both a blessing and a curse. The hallway was empty.

"Sister."

Oh. Almost empty.

Weiss turned to find Whitley closing the distance rapidly, a smirk on his face that, in her experience, never meant anything good. He was only a year younger than her but he looked older and he reveled in acting older too, perfecting the language and poise that Weiss didn't always have the energy for. Not anymore. Sometimes, particularly while beside Klein, or late at night with no one but the stars to judge her, Weiss wondered if other girls her age looked and acted as she did. She didn’t really have anyone else to compare herself to.

Whitley was in his element though. Like her, he was decked out in a formal wear, his jacket smooth, his tie perfectly straight. Weiss envied him his movement. Her corset was too tight, her skirt too full, and her hair, hours later, was starting to give her a headache. Whitley never needed to do anything with his. Like Weiss', the color was a magnificent white.

 _Blonde_ , she thought, frantic. _We're unusually light blondes_.

"Brother," Weiss echoed back, curtseying briefly. "Shouldn't you be at the party? I thought you, Father, and Mother were greeting my Prospectives before my arrival."

"Oh I have." Whitley's smile grew a little more. "Quite the selection available, sis. Father has found good families for you—good stock—even if they are all women."

Weiss kept her face perfectly blank.

"That really is so selfish of you though," he said, voice quieter, inching closer. "To put your... your _preferences_ over the good of the family. My god. That fit you threw!" Whitely put a hand to his mouth, exactly as Weiss had before, and her teeth clenched horribly. "You're really not capable of rational thought, are you? How exactly do you expect to produce an heir someday?"

Weiss' teeth were still clenched. Her words came out as a hiss. "I don't want to have kids."

"Yet you're the eldest."

" _Winter_ is the eldest."

The sting, when it came, was like the bite of a fly—Weiss didn't realize it was there until a second or so after it had happened. She raised a hand to her cheek, feeling the heat there and just like that the pain blossomed. Whitley's face had shuttered off. He took a deliberate step back, examining his hand curiously.

"Winter who?" he asked.

Weiss swallowed her tongue.

"You'll have to fix that," he said mildly, gesturing to her face. "Have Sage put on some more makeup on you, or whatever it is you _ladies_ do." Whitely made it sound like a curse. "Father will be introducing you within the half hour. It's why he sent me. You should hurry up."

"... Right. Of Course."

Except Weiss didn't hurry back to her bedroom where Sage was waiting, just in case such an emergency occurred. She didn't even go to find Klein—who would, no doubt, already be serving the guests downstairs. As Whitely left she sat, right there on the hallway floor, listening to the muffled sound of the ball below her. Weiss raised a hand to her face and felt the wetness there. Whitley's slap had set her eyes watering. How curious.

Except that into her lap fell three sapphire pearls, moving from liquid on her cheeks to solid stone in midair. They were fragile, threaded through with intricate cracks, yet still quite beautiful. Blights against the white of her dress.

"No," Weiss whispered. “ _No_.”

She took them firmly in hand, trembling, and slipped them through the heating grate, listening to their rattling decent, down where no one would ever find them. Weiss wiped her eyes before any more could form. She took the compact of powder from the pocket of her skirt and, using the window as a mirror, fixed up her face. She had not cried. Weiss Schnee _never_ cried—everyone knew that. Just like they knew her hair was a very light blonde.

Anything else might be magic.

***

_There was irony in it, he supposed. Qrow using talons to slash across Ozpin's eye, taking a knife from his own kitchen to do him harm, little Yang attempting the same, seated as a guest at his table. Now Ozpin took the weapon he'd carefully sequestered in his belt and threw it Qrow's way._

_He caught it as a bird and it was in the right hand of a man by the time he'd landed. Qrow halted his assault to look at the knife, momentarily stunned._

_"Move!" Ozpin said._

_He did. Miraculously he did. Qrow pivoted and slid back to his nieces as Ozpin had hoped he would. He cut their bonds and picked up Ruby like she weighed nothing more than an infant. Yang, woozy, was in the hands of Blake, supporting her with one arm while the other held tight to her sword. The four of them formed a tiny, protective pocket that made Ozpin's heart ache. He saw the other Faunus disperse into the trees, no doubt planning to attack from all sides. Adam didn't bother with such strategy. He drew a sword of his own—thin, impossibly long, glowing red with very old magic—and knelt on hands and knees. Adam pointed his sword forward and bowed his head. The toes of his boots dug into the dirt._

He'll charge _, Ozpin thought, a step too far and a second too late. Adam was across the field with a speed that belayed his size, his sword pointed directly at Blake's heart..._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any Yu Yu Hakusho fans might recognize Weiss' ability here as Yukina's - a demon capable of crying tears that turn to gemstones. I always ADORED this concept as well as the potential conflict it could cause. How much danger are you in if people know you're a walking fortune? Can you ever trust someone to really care for who you are, rather than what you're capable of doing? These are questions that (sadly) were dropped after Yukina's initial plotline, but I'm hoping to explore some of this with Weiss~


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, wonderful readers! It's Saturday. It's gorgeous out. Here, have some fic.

This was a good night. A wondrous night, even. The fact that it should have been that and more by anyone’s standards just made her feel that much worse.

_Smile, Pyrrha. Remember always to smile._

It was her Mom's voice and Pyrrha obeyed it.

She smiled, she curtseyed, and then the attendant left her, leaving Pyrrha alone to navigate the ballroom, one decked out in a splendor that only the King could achieve. Truth be told, it took Pyrrha's breath away, and she'd attended far more galas than the average girl. Those had all been functions though. They were structured around meeting the right people and saying the right things, and though Pyrrha could see similar politics laid out in this room—wives clinging appropriately to their husband's arms, waiters keeping to the sidelines, the royal family themselves fashionably late—this felt more like a celebration. And why shouldn't it? After all, Pyrrha might be marrying soon.

She let that thought sink in for a moment.

"Nope," Pyrrha said and made a beeline for the drinks.

Splendor. Wealth. It practically _oozed_ off of everyone and everything here. It was no surprise to her that the Schnee family had chosen white as their decorative theme, a veritable winter in autumn that hurt Pyrrha's eyes and, indeed, made her feel a little cold. The polished, positively sterile tile floor. White crystal chandeliers that caught the light of other jewels and wine glasses. Even the guests had dressed in muted tones, as if they might somehow get closer to their idols if they just looked the part. Seeing as they had made it here, perhaps they were right.

"I feel like I'm in costume," Pyrrha muttered, quiet enough that it was lost to the crowd. She picked her way through the people carefully, head bowed, hyper-aware of how her heels increased her already formidable height. To say nothing of the fact that she was in a _dress_. Pyrrha couldn't remember the last time she'd worn one—she'd been too young to announce her preferences, certainly. Four maybe? Three? Now she was real glad she'd avoided this most of her life: a waist that restricted her breathing, a skirt too long to move in, a top that showed off Pyrrha's... assets. She could feel herself blushing; not that it was her fault she'd developed quickly. Pyrrha had always looked far older than she actually was.

And still she was the youngest in the room.

Except...

The drink table had been an excellent choice. Though the waiters carried alcohol for most of the guests, this little pocket was decorated with juices and things that fizzed, perfect for the Princess's younger guests of honor. Pyrrha had planned to entertain herself with snacks until the formalities began, but now, perhaps, she'd spotted a friend.

"Hello," she chirped.

The boy turned, a little bug-eyed, and for once Pyrrha found the expression humorous rather than insulting. Because for once the shock wasn't directed at her. Not really. This was an, 'oh my god someone is talking to me what do I do' look. Not an, 'oh my god what is _that_?' look. Pyrrha was often a _that_ before people realized she was a champion.

She smiled as the boy hastily swallowed the crackers he'd stuffed into his mouth, a dusting of crumbs still littered around his chin. He hid the rest of the loot behind his back.

"Hello," he echoed faintly. "Um, right. Formal hello. Wait—" He shot out a hand for her to shake. A hand still holding crackers. Pyrrha laughed as he went bright, tomato red.

She slipped a cracker out from his shaking fingers and popped it into her mouth. Pyrrha didn't taste it. She was a little preoccupied with the guy's extra large bug-eyed look now. He tossed the rest onto the table and rubbed his now empty hand over the back of his neck.

"Heh. Sorry. I'm Jaune."

"Pyrrha," she said, mouth still full.

"That's a cool name."

"Thanks! So is 'Jaune.'"

"Really?"

"Mm hmm."

They fell into silence and Pyrrha briefly panicked. All the carefully practiced questions her Mom had drilled into her just didn't work here. How is your business going? Where did you and your spouse meet? Do you think you'll be vacationing in Atlas this year? Pyrrha gnawed at her bottom lip and realized, with growing horror, that she had no idea how to talk to a kid.

She _was_ a kid. It shouldn't be this hard.

"Drink?" Jaune said. He snatched whatever was closest to him and shoved it towards Pyrrha, spilling a little on her dress. Luckily both those things were red and it wasn't super noticeable.

Pyrrha peered at the fizzing concoction. "Thank you. Ah... what is it?"

"No idea. Good? Maybe?"

She took a sip and sure enough it was good, not that Pyrrha should have expected anything else. "Fruity," she murmured, suddenly shy, and she ducked her head as Jaune ducked his. It was strange. He wasn't at all like the boys she'd fought against.

"Right!" Pyrrha suddenly exclaimed. "You're a boy!"

Well, she couldn't begrudge him _that_ confused look. Jaune's mouth unhinged and his gaze darted towards the center of the ballroom, perhaps planning some sort of escape. Pyrrha shot a hand out and grabbed his sleeve so he couldn't do exactly that.

"I'm sorry," she said in a rush. "That was rude wasn't it? It's just, you're young. Like me. But you're not a girl." Pyrrah wanted to smack herself because that didn't clear up a thing, did it? She tightened her hold. "No wait. Please don't go. I just mean I thought the Princess was marrying a _girl_."

Understanding flooded Jaune's eyes and Pyrrha sighed, relieved.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, a little shocked. "But, um, no. I'm not here for... that." Jaune gestured vaguely. "Ha. Even if I was I wouldn't be."

Pyrrha cocked her head. "Huh?"

"I'm not the type to be marrying princesses, am I?"

Funny, she rather thought he was. Pyrrha had always loved the old stories, about warriors that fought dark, fearsome creatures, things that came at you from the shadows and then dragged you back with them. Her mom had even whispered once that those creatures had actually existed, a long time ago, and despite knowing it was just to embolden her Pyrrha couldn’t help but believe that was true. Now it was all just for show. _You're a warrior, Pyrrha, just like those of old!_ Maybe, but Jaune actually looked the part. He had kind, handsome features the reassured her and blonde hair that seemed to come straight out of a storybook. Even his suit was nice, though a little threadbare. And sure, he was on the lanky side, but he'd grow out of that later, wouldn’t he? Pyrrah found herself cataloguing each part of Jaune and finding none of him wanting. He'd gone a very pretty pink.

"Why _are_ you here?" she asked, bypassing his question entirely. It was the right choice because Jaune suddenly lit up with a grin, pressing closer to Pyrrha so he could point out at the sea of people.

"I'm here with my sisters. Can you believe they were _all_ chosen as Prospectives?" Jaune's voice had taken on a thoroughly proud tone. "I'm just here as chaperone. Sort of. I know the Schnees didn't want parents tagging along, but Mom and Dad weren't comfortable sending the girls alone so, you know, here I am! Oh look, there's Violet. She's the oldest. Too old for the Princess, right? But um, maybe if they just wait a long time? Anyway, I don't think she much wants this. Mom threw a fit and doesn't get it at all, but I do. I'm not sure she really wants to marry anyone anyway... Wait, that's Rouge. See? In the skirt? Those are the triples, Gris, Bleu, and Vert, and the twins should be around here somewhere—I _know_. Mom is... good at multiples. They're Noir and Blanc, probably hiding under one of the tables. I'm the youngest. And the only boy." Jaune drew in a massive breath, saying the last part with a certain level of sheepishness. "Um, obviously."

Pyrrah smiled. "They sent their youngest to watch over the rest?"

"I'm very responsible," and Jaune straightened his jacket, causing her to giggle.

"What about you?" he asked, fishing more crackers out of the bowl. "I guess you're here as a Prospective too? I mean, we're like the only kids around, right?"

Pyrrha nodded, suddenly hesitant. "I am," she admitted.

"And you're the only one in your family here? Wow. You must be awesome then! I—" Jaune suddenly stopped. His mouth working for a second, toes bouncing as he peered to get a closer look at Pyrrha. She fidgeted and leaned back.

"Jaune?"

"Wait," he said. "Wait, wait, wait you're _the_ Pyrrah? Like Nikos Pyrrha? The fabled weapons master?"

"Well, I don't know if I can claim the title 'master' yet—"

"Holy _shit_." Jaune said it quickly, quietly, as all kids did when they knew cursing wasn't allowed and adults might be nearby. He looked towards the crowd, but no one was paying any attention to the Prospectives, increasingly eager as they were to see the actual Princess. Jaune's eyes were immediately back on Pyrrha though and to her immense relief he didn't look disgusted or intimidated. He just looked happy.

"I had your cereal once," he said it like a secret. "But then Dad didn't buy it again. Said it was too sugary."

Pyrrha exploded with a laugh. She slapped a hand over her mouth.

"It is kind of awful," she said, smiling shyly.

"No it was the best. _You're_ the best. Erm, I just mean, you know. I've seen your fights on TV. Well, some of them." Jaune dithered a moment. "Okay I've seen one, but it was the best one I'm sure."

Pyrrha laughed again, relaxing. It wasn't often that she found someone so easy-going about her fame. Adults loved to treat her like a prize—could they get her to promote their product? Maybe interview with their network?—and others her age were usually jealous rather than star-struck. Pyrrha raised a hand and briefly touched the back of it to her cheek, wondering if her face was as red as it felt. Probably. She set the fizzy drink down.

"It's really not that impressive," she murmured. "No one uses those old weapons anymore—what's there to fight now that the Wars have passed? It's learning the style more than anything else. Kinda more like dancing than fighting."

Jaune shook his head. "Still cool," he insisted. "I mean, my sisters got invited because our ancestors were warriors too. The, uh, real kind, not the TV kind. Not sure I believe it though. Not really. I mean, does Rouge look like some kind of secret assassin to you?"

Pyrrha caught sight of the pretty girl with her blonde hair up in a twist...nearly falling over as she tried to pick something off the bottom of her shoe.

"She might be very good at deceiving us," she said.

Jaune pulled a face so comically disbelieving that Pyrrha was set off again. She hadn't laughed this much in ages and had hardly expected to laugh like this now, here, in all places. She was just thinking of admitting that to Jaune when he said,

"There's also stories that my ancestors used to possess magic. Just as likely, huh?"

And just like that Pyrrha's good mood plummeted. She didn't realize her hand had shot out to cover Jaune's mouth until it was already there, trembling and trying so hard to shove those words back in. Like Jaune had when he'd cursed, Pyrrha's eyes shot around the room. She held perfectly still: the spitting image of hunted prey.

"Pyrrha?" Jaune mumbled around her fingers.

"You can't talk about that," she hissed, moving her hand down to grip Jaune's jacket. It was then that she realized just how threadbare it was, how his sisters were dressed in simple frocks, and—as Rouge was still demonstrating—seemed to lack many basic social graces. Pyrrha drank in their simple hairstyles, Jaune's manner of speech, and concluded with a shock that these were country people, folks who many not have kept up with the recent politics in Atlas.

"You saw one of my fights," Pyrrha said slowly. "Do you watch a lot of television?"

Jaune went hot red again. "Not um... not really. It's usually on the fritz. Old, you know?"

She nodded. It was as she'd expected. Reception outside of the Kingdom wasn’t anything reliable. "Then you don't keep up with the news." This time it wasn't a question.

"No, but what does that—"

"Your parents, when they interviewed for your sisters' spots a Potentials, did they mention any magic in your ancestry?"

Jaune blinked. "No," he said again. "It's just—it's just a family legend. Magic isn't _real_ , Pyrrha. The King and Queen requested us because we’re Arcs." It was Pyrrha's turn to go wide-eyed in shock and Jaune looked just as uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "Uh huh. Big brave fighters in the ancient Wars, blah blah blah. We're not that now and I don't see why..." He trailed off, gnashing his teeth.

"You don't see why people should be judging you by that alone," Pyrrha finished softly. He nodded, but she shook off the moment between them. "Jaune, listen, you can't mention that again. Not even if they're just stories. Not _ever_."

"Why?"

Pyrrha wanted to tell him what she'd seen on the news-feeds lately, about 'troublesome' people who were sent outside of the Kingdom, to an undisclosed location, where, supposedly, they would live out the rest of their lives in comfort, away from the rest of the population. Yeah right. Pyrrha wasn't that naive. Why splurge for criminals? Although, tellingly, the feeds had never actually said what crimes these people had supposedly committed...

It was only a hunch, an instinct, but Pyrrha had her own bedtime stories and unlike Jaune she'd always been a little more open in her beliefs.

"Just don't mention it again," she whispered. "For me?"

It was a bold request and Pyrrha was delighted—in more ways than one—when Jaune immediately nodded. It was then that the two of them realized how very close they had gotten.

Pyrrha was actually considering something as daring as leaning down to kiss Jaune’s cheek when a large crash sounded across the room, along with an inarticulate yell that raised all the hairs on the back of Pyrrha's neck. So much for the soft, cultured party she'd expected.

Jaune was staring in the direction of the shout. "What the fu—?"

He was cut off as a black-haired man slammed into his shoulder, running past. Steadying Jaune, exchanging bemused glances, they took only one, silent second to decide.

Arm-in-arm, the two of them ran after him.

***

_Now._

_As always, it came down to choice. As always, he was the one who determined who lived and who died. The very notion set Ozpin's teeth on edge where once it had thrilled him, sang through his blood and muddied his thoughts like wine. He was older now though. Hesitant. Repentant. Even he, with all his power, couldn't save everyone._

_A choice: protect Blake, or protect the rest._

_He'd always made claims to the greater good. Ozpin hated himself for that._

_He knelt—as Adam charged behind him—he knelt and drew his finger though the dirt, the thin line shooting out fast like tree roots in a perfect, encompassing circle around the glade. The reflection of nature was deliberate, though Ozpin was careful not to take it too far. Even with all his power he would be a fool to try and best the Faunus with their own elements. Instead Ozpin merely watched as the tendrils sank deep into the earth, darkening in color. There was a light shimmer in the air._

_Across from him Yang felt the change. The air became charged with the same, fuzzy static that had characterized the forcefield in the hut. It was familiar to her now, calling up something within her she didn't yet know how to name, and it was this that had her wearily lifting her head. Yang felt weak and heavy, poisoned with an exhaustion unlike anything she had experienced before, one that might have dragged her into a deep, perhaps endless sleep. She nearly passed out then and there._

_But she didn't. In that millisecond where she raised her head Yang spotted Adam shooting towards them, a fearsome sword pointed straight at her—no. Wait. At_ Blake _._

_Yang knew then who was holding her. She calculated, through instinct alone, the sword's path and a fearsome protection rise up within her. It was both exactly and nothing like what she felt for Ruby._

_With a shriek of rage Yang wrenched Blake behind her and took the sword through her chest._


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S A MIRACLE! Actually it's the fact that I'm failing spectacularly at nanowrimo and needed to finish something to alleviate my guilt. Come join me as I try to remember how the hell to write this AU...

"Whoopsie. That's my bad."

Nora knew well how to play the dumb, innocent little waif. She didn't often like to, but when she did? Oh wow. Instant success. All it took was a lopsided smile, a hand at the back of her neck, and all the adults were turning away, most sporting disgusted looks for this clumsy child. Honestly, _this_ was one of the Potentials? A firm look at the ground made her appear embarrassed and it allowed Nora to roll her eyes all she liked.

It was just a stupid punch bowl. Granted, a bowl that looked like it cost more than their entire village, but still.

"Let me, Miss," one of the generic servers said. Nora nodded and rocked back on her heels, allowing him to bend and begin picking up the large shards of glass between gloved fingers. As the barriers disappeared more pink juice seeped out in all directions. Nora backed up carefully against the table.

"I like your hair," she announced after a moment, pointing to the strips of white in the otherwise black strands. The server froze, blinking, seemingly unable to comprehend the compliment, and Nora shot him a mega-watt smile. "It looks like you’re dusted with snow!"

"Er... thank you, Miss. I suppose it's appropriate to have snow hair at the royal palace. Yes?"

Kneeling as he was, Nora couldn't completely make out his face, but she did catch the quick smile that came and went. A joke then. Ha. She knew they couldn't all be stuffy nobodies around here.

" _Nora!_ "

And thoughts of the server guy were gone. Nora turned, pink dress flying out behind her as she jumped to get a look above the crowd. She caught a brief glimpse of Ren before he—politely—barreled through two couples and a scowling businessman to get at her. Stumbling to a halt he took in the whole of her, unharmed, just as she did him. Then Ren picked up on the smashed bowl and though his expression didn't change, Nora could feel the annoyance rolling off him in waves.

Whoops, again.

"It was an accident," she said, skipping forward to throw arms about his neck. The high-collared shirt Ren wore was too stiff for a proper hug, but Nora actually didn’t mind. He felt more like Ren in this place, even if she wasn’t quite Nora. The sooner they got away from linoleum floors and back to the earth, moss, and grass of their home—the better.

It wasn't like she'd wanted to come here, but if Ren had to go... then Nora would go too. That was just simple.

"Are you okay?" he asked, one hand briefly pressing against the small of her back. "What happened?"

Mmm. That hand felt good. Wait. Talking? Questions. Right. The whoopsie-doodle. Nora was about to make up a wonderful story about an attack by evil, royal guards and her team-up with the dashing server that resulted in a punch bowl's untimely death... but then she saw the girl.

The girl with red hair.

"Me," Nora whispered.

She felt Ren stiffening in confusion. "Huh?"

" _ME_ ," and Nora pressed both hands on Ren's shoulders, launching herself up and swinging her legs around him. With a squawk Ren barely managed to keep his feet, but by that point Nora had cleared the boring nobodies and was gaining speed. She ploughed into the wide-eyed girl so hard that Nora felt her breath rushing by as it was punched right out of her.

"What?!" A blonde boy stumbled away, looking shell-shocked and wary. The girl, meanwhile, had dropped into a defensive stance but hadn't actually hit Nora. That was good! She glanced over Nora's shoulder a little desperately. She was probably looking at Ren.

"I love your hair," Nora gushed, hanging on her now instead. She whipped out a hand to play with the strands. The girl stiffened, but quickly relaxed her stance.

"Uh... thank you?"

"You're welcome!" Nora cried. "This is the best hair. _Ever_. Well, next to my hair. And Ren's hair. But it's way more awesome than the salt and pepper severer over there and his hair is snow hair."

"Where's my hair fit in?" Jaune asked, trying to flatten it after all the excitement. Nora made a sour face.

"Blondes are boring."

"Gee. Thanks."

"You're not welcome."

"I'm sorry about her," Ren said, jogging up to the three of them. He seemed a little out of breath and for just a second Nora felt bad about making him run around in his binder. "It's just that we've never seen another red head before."

"Right," Jaune pointed a little rudely. "You're from Kuroyuri, aren't you?"

Ren bowed his head as Nora nodded excitedly.

"Yes. Nearly everyone there has black hair, like me. Nora here wandered in from the outlands."

"Hehe." She grinned widely. "I'm the outlier."

"I can see that," Pyrrha murmured. "Oh. We're both being very rude. I'm Pyrrha Nikos and this is Jaune Arc." Hmm. _He_ appeared pleased that Pyrrha remembered his name and she ducked her head shyly. Interesting. "We heard the crash. Are you both okay?"

"Ren and I are _great_. Great as you can while be being here, anyway. I was just a little clumsy is all."

Ren though had narrowed his eyes. He mouthed 'clumsy' before turning sharply on his heel and marching back towards the table. Everyone let them pass with ease now, choosing to flat out ignore the children and their disrespectful ways. He was able to reach the table before Nora did, waving her hands and babbling about dangerous glass. The glass was cleaned up now though. Ren surveyed the area.

"What is it?" Jaune asked. Nora grabbed Pyrrha's hand and wrung them both, ignoring her stare.

"Nora acts clumsy," Ren said, mostly to himself. "But she's a thief. You’ve got to have good balance to escape on the rooftops..."

"You’re a _thief_?" Jaune said but Ren had already grabbed hold of the table's cover. Ignoring Nora's groan he bundled the fabric and lifted it high.

A small, blue-eyed girl blinked out from under the table. Pigtails swung as she looked up at them and when she smiled—nervously—gapped teeth were revealed.

Jaune smacked a hand against his forehead. " _Blanc_ _?_ "

"Oh my," Pyrrha said. Nora was muttering something incomprehensible into her shoulder while Ren looked about as annoyed as you could look while actually being right. His gaze slid over to Nora.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

She squirmed. "Not on _purpose_ purpose." Nora leaned into their little group to stage whisper, "She needed a place to hide."

"Hide?"

"Don't be mad at her, Jaune." They all turned to Blanc ** _,_** still tucked under the table with knees drawn up to her chest. She tugged nervously at her pigtails. "The guards kept staring at us and I didn't like it. I asked her to help. And—and Noir had already snuck out to the gardens so I thought I could just.... I don't _want_ to marry Princess Schnee, Jaune."

Silence descended among the five of them. Ren subtly tucked the raised cloth under a platter but moved so that he was blocking Blanc from view. The guards were staring at them in a way that felt more like they were prisoners instead of guests, but as far as everyone else was concerned they were just four Potentials, standing around the snack table and getting to know one another. The guards' eyes eventually slipped passed them and everyone let out a sigh of relief.

The absurdity of the situation hit them too. One of them was supposed to _marry_ this girl.

“Can’t blame you for hiding, sis,” Jaune said, earning a smile from Blanc.

"We need to talk," Pyrrha said. “Alone.”

Nora gasped with happiness as Pyrrha grabbed her hand and snuck her other into Jaune's. Jaune grabbed Blanc **,** Blanc latched onto Ren, and Nora snatched a cookie before their line was pulled away. They found a door off the side of the ballroom. Easing it open, Pyrrha quickly ushered them through when the guards were looking elsewhere. The only one who seemed to spot them was Mr. Salt and Pepper Hair. His tray wobbled a moment, expression surprised, and Nora dropped him a wink. She sealed her lips with the cookie.

There was a small alcove just to the right of the door. They snuck in there, still crowded together even though the palace was nothing but space; blue and white walls that bled into high windows, towering over them. Nora leaned against Ren's side, casting a distasteful look at all the splendor. The cookie was split: a third handed off to Blanc, a third for her, and a third to sprinkle onto the carpet, just because.

Jaune tucked his sister against him and looked across at Pyrrha. She was gnawing at her lower lip. "What's wrong?"

"Everything!" They all winced and Pyrrha lowered her voice. "Look I... I know we've just me. _Literally_ just met, but we're in this together, right? I don't know about you, but all of this feels really off to me. I'm supposed to be happy..." Pyrrha briefly closed her eyes. She had to breathe deeply a moment before starting again. "My mom says I should be honored to be a Potential. That it's going to secure my future, but I don't want to marry this girl. I don't even know her! I'm sure she's just lovely, but—"

"I'm not," Nora interrupted. She scowled at their looks. "She's a _Schnee_."

"And?" Jaune challenged.

"And her dad's crazy!"

Pyrrha considered that as Jaune tightened his grip on Blanc’s shoulders. "Perhaps, but I try not to judge people by their family. I wouldn't want anyone judging me by mine." Pyrrha held up her hands to forestall a larger argument. "All I'm saying is that I'm not your competition here. If someone else wants her hand, great. I—" Pyrrha briefly went the same color as her dress. "I'm not even sure I like girls..."

 For some reason she glanced at Jaune as she said that. "Oooo," Nora leaned into their space until Ren pulled her back.

"Behave."

"Pff, fine. Well I don't want her either." Nora made a shooing motion at some imaginary princess. "And Blanc doesn't want her, right Blanc?"

She frantically shook her head. Though a year older, she was still small enough to look up at Jaune as he held her. "We were talking and none of us do. We want to go home now, Jaune. This isn’t fun anymore."

Nora wondered, briefly, what had gone down to freak the other kids out this much. Besides the creepy prince that had greeted them when they’d first arrived. Yeesh. But Nora had seen them earlier when she and Ren had first come in, sticking in pairs or threes, but still looking on all the splendor with only the kind of enthusiasm that someone who'd never had it could muster up.

She knew. She'd fallen for that trap at first too (especially when she got a look at that _buffet_ table). But over the last hour or so the general atmosphere had changed. Maybe it was all the guards posted around the ballroom. Or the growing weight of their situation.... or the fact that the princess, supposedly due soon after their own arrival, had yet to show her face. The adults didn't seem to think much of it—they were happy to lie to and manipulate each other all night—but kids picked up on these things. And Nora knew how to read a room pretty well. It had saved her life on more than one occasion.

"Then you won't," Jaune announced. He said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, though Nora thought she heard a slight tremble in his voice. "None of my sisters are marrying this girl if they don't want to. No matter how rich she is or, um... how mean a father she's got." His eyes darted around the empty hallway, half expecting the mysterious Jacques Schnee to appear from the shadows.

Which was stupid. Kings didn't just _walk_ their own halls. They had people to carry them and stuff. Nora was sure about this one.

They were all staring down at Blanc. She'd gone from a tense ball of stress to a tiny puddle of girl soup in her brother's arms. Aw. Nora didn't really know this Jaune guy yet, but if he hung out with redheads and instilled that much faith in his sisters, he couldn’t be all bad—even if he did have some stupid ideas. Pyrrha was looking at Blanc with an equally contemplative expression when Nora heard a soft,

"I don't wish to marry her either."

Oh.

Nora had to take a moment to school her features before turning back to Ren. There was too much possibility in that sentence. Relief too. Normally such a still guy, Nora felt her stomach tighten as Ren dragged his long hair over one shoulder, unconsciously playing with the strands.

"But you're not a Potential," Pyrrha said. She stared as Nora winced. "What? Oh, I'm sorry. Your inflection isn't quite what I'm used to. Was that a joke? If it was, then I… well."

She, Jaune, and Blanc all smiled, like they were preparing to laugh on cue, and as stupid as it looked Nora couldn't help but giggle at the expressions. They made a warm little bubble replace the tightness in her stomach. She _liked_ these people.

And what a perfect excuse. Nora was about to chime in with, 'Yeah. Kuroyuri people, am I right? Weirdos all around,' ... but Ren was already shaking his head. 

"Ha!" Nora firmly pat his arm. Then kept patting it. She couldn't seem to stop. "Slow down there, partner! You and your crazy sense of humor. Why I remember one time when he--"

"It's okay, Nora."

The other three were staring at her. And no wonder. Nora instinctually hid behind Ren and pulled him safe against her chest. "Ren…”

“Hm?”

“You sure?"

"No," he admitted, smiling down at her. "But I think Pyrrha is right. Whatever is going on here—whatever happens—we're in it together. I'd prefer to be truthful with them now."

"Hmm."

Jaune and Pyrrha exchanged glances. Blanc was staring up at Ren with an adorably concentrated look on her face. Her mouth worked for a moment. She peered closer. Then she suddenly gasped.

" _You're_ the Potential," Blanc said, hand slapping her fist like she'd discovered something grand. "Cool!"

"Wha?" Jaune narrowed his eyes. "Hold up. A who and a what and a why and a when?"

Pyrrah quickly turned to hide her laugh. She came back up a second later though, expression smooth. "Perhaps not the way I would have put it, but yes. I'm a little confused. The call for Potentials went out solely to girls, didn't it?"

Ren inclined his head. "An issue of semantics," he said. Only Nora caught the nervous twitch: hands continuing to play with the very ends of his hair. "My parents thought that they had a daughter when I was first born. They were mistaken. I've spent a long time trying to convince them otherwise—" Ren paused to rest a soothing hand on Nora's arm. "But they're adamant. When the call went out they presented me and I was chosen, despite my insistence that the Princess would not be satisfied with me as a wife. Considering that she would, in fact, have a husband." Ren smiled a little as Jaune worked through that. "I... had no desire to come here. Though since it was necessary Nora and I made the best of it. We've known each other since we were children and she's kindly been helping me through this."

"I snuck onto his airship," Nora clarified. "With _way_ better clothes for him. So now I get to wear Ren's dress instead." She did a little twirl, keeping an eye on Jaune and Pyrrha's expressions as she did. 

Pyrrha's split into a smile. "How funny."

"Funny?" Nora froze, hands curling into fists.

"That none of us want this."

Oh.

And just like that any confusion passed, replaced instead with worry. The group looked around at one another, realizing that what Pyrrha said was true. The question was, what were they going to do about it?

"You don't think the Princess is real understanding, do you?" Jaune ventured. "Maybe she'll just let us all go home?"

Nora scowled. "I doubt it."

"Maybe she— _ow!_ "

Blanc cut off as something small smacked onto the top of her head, bouncing before landing and rolling along the carpet. As Jaune immediately smoothed a hand between her pigtails Nora dived and grabbed the offending object.

"Whoa," she whispered. Nora held it up for the others to see. "It's a jewel. Oh my _god_." She stared up at the ceiling. "It really does rain gems here. I knew it!"

"Or it fell out of that grate." Ren pointed at the opening above Jaune and Blanc’s heads.

"Well yeah. Maybe... if you want to be boring about it."

"That still doesn't explain where it came from," Pyrrha said. She took the stone, examining it closely. The sapphire color was pretty. "Look. It has all these cracks in it, see?"

"Weird," Blanc muttered. "Everything's supposed to be perfect here."

It was true. Somehow, that stone threaded with hairline fractures made them more nervous than the talk of marriage.

Nora snatched the gem back out of Pyrrha's hand, stuffing it deep in her dress pocket.

Ren raised an eyebrow. "Nora. You don't need to steal—"

"Move," she hissed. 

He got the message before the word had finished leaving her lips—as did Jaune and Pyrrha, oddly enough. The five of them pushed deeper into the alcove, just as the door they had opened for a second time. Hidden in the shadows, Nora watched as Mr. Salt and Pepper Hair bustled by.

"He's in a hurry," Ren whispered. Nora nodded.

It wasn't just that though. He was nervous. Nora knew people, how to read them and, if necessary, how to manipulate them. She'd known the cute blonde-haired girl hadn't meant her any harm when she'd run into the back of her legs earlier, half crying and needing a place to rest. She'd also known to wait until Salt and Pepper passed by before creating a commotion. Nora had seen him smiling at Jaune's other sisters. The way he stood between them and the guards. He looked just enough out of place that she had banked on him being kind—and then he was. 

"We should follow him," Nora whispered. Jaune's head whipped around to stare at her. 

"No? We shouldn't?"

Pyrrha looked like she was contemplating it. "What would that achieve?"

"Dunno, but this place is weird, I want to know what's going on, and I don't hear you lot coming up with any brighter ideas."

Jaune still looked unconvinced. "Ren—help me out here."

Ren just shrugged. "I've learned not to fight her. Besides, do you really want to just wait around in that ballroom until the Princess arrives?"

They all took a moment to imagine that meeting, as well as the conversation that would follow. Jaune paled slightly and shoved Blanc back towards the door. "You wait in there."

She stomped her foot. "But I want to come with you!" 

"And I want a kick-ass sword, but we can't always get what we want!"

"I'm older." Blanc crossed her arms.

"Not emotionally you're not..."

"He's getting away," Pyrrha hissed.

Blanc finally through up her hands and let Jaune nudge her back through the door, whispering the whole time that if they didn't come back before the Princess arrived there would be a full family search for him. Which was probably for the best. Nora didn't want to admit it, but this castle was starting to give her the creeps. It wasn't just how open and echo-y everything was, or how weird the floor felt beneath her feet. It just had an air of dejection about it.

Speaking of feet…

"Walk toe-heel," Nora whispered, serious just this once. "It'll be quieter. Pyrrha ditch those," and Pyrrha stripped off her heels as Nora did the same. She was still stupidly tall without them. Dammit.

"What are you muttering about?" Ren said. His whispered words tickled the back of Nora's neck.

"Nothing. C'mon. Let's go see what Mr. Jittery is up to."

She led the way, creeping out just as the waiter rounded the corner at the end of the hall, his face a mask of worry. Behind Nora was Ren—his hand clasped firmly in hers, a wonderful weight—and bringing up the rear were two new friends that she honestly hadn't expected to make today. In fact, besides Ren, Nora was pretty sure they were her _only_ friends.

She snuck a look back at Jaune and Pyrrha, a grin easing onto her face.

Friends. Two real life people who didn't snub their nose at her _or_ Ren. Wow. And now they were going on an adventure.

Nora picked up the pace.

***

 _Oh gods not again._ Please _not again._

_Ozpin had to shut his eyes._

_When he opened them he was surrounded by animals of all variety._

_His spell, simple as it was, had worked. It was always so much easier to allow something to just be what it was, rather than forcing it to become something new, and the Faunus, as much as some didn't want to admit it, would always be part animal. Not an insult... a strength. It was a connection to the wider world that Ozpin envied and his jealousy—as well as his anger—had poured into that field.  As Adam's army aimed for his throat and passed through his barrier, they fully become one of their true selves:  Foxes, lizards, dogs, snakes, tigers, eagles...  the glad was suddenly littered with animals, all shaking their head in bewilderment. It wouldn't take them long to realize what had happened though, and these people could attack with tooth and claw as easily as with the weapons of men._

_Besides, Ozpin had more important things to focus on than these creatures. He'd heard Yang's scream. Or rather, he'd felt it—a slice through Ozpin's heart far sharper than the sword she was dealing with now._

Hardly, you self-serving fool.

_Of course._

_Ozpin turned, resigning himself to seeing another young body broken. Instead he was granted with hope._

_Adam's sword had hit Yang, oh yes, but the girl had instinctually collapsed on top of Blake, sending it through the top of her chest, nearer her collarbone than her heart. In a second that was a drawn out year to him Ozpin watched as Qrow roared in pure, protective rage, grabbing Adam by his hair and slicing their knife across his neck. Ah, Ozpin knew well the sting of_ that _blade._

_Blood sprayed out across Blake's hair; Yang's now unconscious form. Adam had tried to avoid the wound and his momentum sent him tumbling black, bringing his blade with him. Ozpin saw more blood pooling around Yang and knew that now was their chance._

_Blood magic had always disgusted him. Ozpin used it anyway._

_“Vincite.”_

_Manipulating Yang's was easy. Her blood, so recently spilled, cried out against her attacker. Adam had his hands pressed protectively to his neck and he yelled in fear as red ropes suddenly shot out of the pool to bind them together, burning his skin. Ozpin paid him little mind now. His screams didn't pierce as Yang's had._

_Dodging the sluggish animals Ozpin ran at Qrow, his well-seasoned mind reminding him at the last second to snatch the pack he'd brought with him. Running the length of the glad was a long stretch for one such as him and it gave Ozpin plenty of time to review their situation. It didn't matter how long he stalled them. There was still nowhere to go. He gazed at Yang, injured and drained, Blake staring at her in shock... the two of them couldn't carry three kids._

_Then Ruby twisted in Qrow's arms. She spread her hands, that beloved cloak draped between them._

What's a girl going to do with a silly old cloak?

_Ah, but this girl had magic within her._

_"Ozpin!" Ruby shouted._

_He snapped time back into place and appeared before her with arm outstretched. It was Qrow who took it, his hand clasping Ozpin's forearm with branding strength, their eyes meeting... but there was no time left to examine the moment. Ruby was spreading her cloak around them, impossibly large, until it bloomed like a flower with her at its center, encompassing family and friends. Ozpin instinctually pulled himself closer to Qrow as he felt the familiar wash of magic along his skin._

_Adam remained outside of Ruby's protection. Ozpin had one last image of the faunus bound and bleeding on his knees before space itself skewed._

_And they were gone._


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated. The rumors of my continued inability to maintain a decent posting schedule are... sadly pretty accurate ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The night that Winter left the palace—and their Father's graces for good—she'd visited Weiss' rooms one last time, wearing sturdy pants, a long-sleeved gray shirt, hiking boots... and elegant white gloves.

  
The contrast had startled Weiss more than the commoner's clothes or the simple pack over Winter's shoulder. She'd raised a finger to her lips then, telling Weiss in a single gesture that she would command this conversation, as she had every other talk they'd ever engaged in. Weiss didn't mind. Somehow, acknowledging that control felt like some strange sign of respect. Like they were equals this night in a way they hadn't been before.

  
So Weiss had stayed curled under her covers and let Winter place the pretty jewelry box atop the duvet.

  
"I couldn't risk touching it," Winter had whispered, even though it was the dead of night, even though their royal guard was making their rounds far away. "Do you know why, Weiss?"

  
It wouldn't have mattered if she had. Weiss knew nothing. Understanding that you knew nothing was what kept you alive out here. She shook her head and Winter seemed to consider her for a moment before saying only,

  
"Magic.”

  
Now there are some words, some truths, that can only be spoken when the stars are out, can only come from one particular person's lips if they have any hope of being believed. Even so, Weiss had already opened her mouth to produce the familiar, frantic assertion that though magic existed, it certainly didn't exist here. There was no trace of that taint within the palace walls, or in the color of their hair...

  
But even as Weiss opened her mouth Winter was raising that finger again. Right. She controlled the conversation, even when it lead to the impossible.

  
"Put your hand on the box," Winter commanded and Weiss did just that. Blue with white trim, the lid had felt warm beneath her palm and Weiss spent long moments convincing herself that it was just the heat of machinery, despite the fact that she couldn't hear the vibration of any gears. When the top popped open to reveal a velvet-lined interior, Weiss insisted that the faint music she heard in the back of her mind was just the remnants of a dream.

  
Winter slowly peeled off her gloves. "There," she whispered.

  
For a long time after that Winter had explained things to Weiss, most of which she wouldn't believe (or at least, wouldn't admit to believing) until she was older. They were impossible things, like how this box was now bound to her and would open only at her touch. That Weiss should begin filling it immediately with a wealth that was all her own. Because someday—the most impossible thing of all—she'd need it.

  
"Father will notice," Weiss had whispered, the first words she'd spoken that night. "Whitley too... you know they check my allowance and if I steal anything... the servants..."

  
Bad things happened to little girls who stole and told lies. More often, bad things happened to their friends. Not because of those things, mind. Lying was just a part of the trade and stealing was an art when it happened on the large scale. But only when it was allowed. Anything else gave little girls far too much freedom. Independence. Agency. Horrible, nasty things.

  
_This life is not yours_ , Whitney had told her.

  
And like a little fool, Weiss believed him.

  
Winter had shaken her head though. Grasping her little sister's hands she'd pulled them close together under a shaft of moonlight, her expression pulling and then pinching in a foreign manner—a smile, though Weiss hardly recognized it as such. There was nothing tentative about her eyes though. They shared the same cool, blue color and Weiss had often witnessed what she saw then, though normally it was only through a mirror.

  
Winter was crying and when she did three perfect pink pearls cascaded into her lap.

  
Weiss did not name the act for what it was, but her hands tightened over her sister's, hard enough to leave an ache that Winter would carry with her in the coming hours. It was difficult to slip away, but when she did Winter dropped each pearl into the velvet interior.

  
It seemed that some unspoken agreement had passed between them. Winter hadn't cried, for Schnees never cried. She certainly hadn't performed magic, for that wasn't possible. And like a veil lifting from her eyes Weiss could suddenly see the world for what it was, strangely beautiful for all its imperfections. Because imperfections meant loopholes. Tiny little cracks that she could slip thorough... like her eyes watering, but only because of the sun or stray lashes; dabbing carefully with a handkerchief; the fabric slipping into a dress pocket, secreting variously colored stones...

  
Winter's gems—worth more than what most would make in a lifetime—started a new kind of wealth for Weiss.

  
And she'd been filling her box ever since.

  
***

  
Ren was hyper aware of his hair. It felt heavy against his back.

  
Maybe that was just him projecting the general stress of following some poor waiter down the hall, because who fostered emotions off on _hair_? He couldn't deny though how much the long strands had been annoying him lately. His bangs kept getting in his eyes and brushing out the knots each morning was becoming a hassle. It was a practical issue... and an emotional one. Just another reminder of how his parents' desires tended to superseded his own. It wasn’t even that he particularly wanted short hair. Just the option of it. Without the expectations attached to his culture and… other things. But what was, was. The ballroom had been hotter than Ren had expected and he told himself that the sheen of sweat along his nape was purely from exertion. Nothing more.

  
Nora's hand was slick in his too. He gave it a squeeze.

  
She glanced back with a grin.

  
"Nice and quiet," she said, which was horrendously not quiet at all. Ren winced and heard Jaune frantically shushing her behind him, but the waiter didn't seem to notice. He rounded another corner and the four of them shuffled to keep up, all but clinging to one another as they moved en-mass. Ren felt his body pressed between more friends than he'd ever had and thought about gems, hair, the price of freedom. When he shifted his weight Pyrrha was there, one hand coming up to rest comfortingly on his arm.

  
She nodded down the hall. "He's stopped."

  
Indeed he had. Outside a door far more ornate than the others they'd passed—and that was saying something.

  
Ren narrowed his eyes. "Look..."

  
They all watched it happen. Not magic (why was he thinking of that?) but something like it; the pure talent that some people had to command their own person. In a swift move the man had gone from humble, invisible server to someone worthy of your time. With just a straightening of his shoulders and a new tilt of his head he'd become the type who was to be served instead. He confidently raised a hand to knock... 

 

But before he did the waiter turned and looked directly at them.

  
Jaune began to yelp and was stopped only by some impressively fast reflexes on Pyrrha's part. They all stumbled back, back around the corner, but they knew it was too late. Any moment now the man would raise a cry of alarm and they'd have to find some way of explaining themselves. Ren didn't think they had one.

  
The cry never came though. Instead they heard only the distinct sound of a door opening and,

  
"James? Ah, come in, come in. I can never remember, do you smoke?"

 

“I don’t, Sir.”

  
“You should.”

  
“Maybe, but not today. Do you mind if I leave the door open? It's rather stuffy in here…”

  
There was a derisive noise from behind the door, but Ren was more concerned with whatever game this man was playing. That was a smuggler’s technique, the kind of thief who moved information from place to place instead of tangible goods. One party manipulated the conversation while the other waited outside, collecting what was heard. Ren could only imagine what a waiter who wasn’t a waiter wanted them to hear though.

  
He caught Pyrrha’s eye. There was both relief and frustration there. She seemed just as confused as he was.

  
“What—?” Jaune started to say, but none of them had the answer. Nora leaned across Ren’s chest (smelling like sweat and raspberry perfume) before slowly motioning for them to follow. In a straight line they inched closer to the door until the voices became crystal clear.

  
The other man was speaking. Ren didn’t need to know that he lived in the palace and smoked what smelled like cigars. The power was all in his voice.

  
“What’s happening down there?” he asked, his tone making it clear the kind of answer he was looking for. There was a respectful pause before the not-waiter designed to speak again.

  
“The party seems to be meeting all guests’ satisfaction. During my rounds I didn’t overhear any complaints about either the food or the company. Well,” he paused, a tad dramatically Ren thought. “There was a small incident with a punch bowl, but I was quick to deal with it.”

  
“The children?”

  
“Rambunctious. Though that’s to be expected, especially with the Arcs sending their whole brood.”

  
Jaune bristled at the chosen term and Pyrrha had to grip tight to his wrist to keep him from moving. “My sisters were _invited_ ,” he hissed and she nodded, eyes still trained on the open doorway. Her expression was thunderous.

  
No, Ren didn’t like them either. Although somehow the other man’s tone seemed far worse than the waiter’s words…

  
“It’s to be expected,” the man responded. A heavy, utterly hollow sigh sounded from his lips. “None of them are suitable.”

  
Five words that had them frozen, mouths agape in surprise and—dare Ren admit it?—relief. There was an equally surprised silence from the waiter and when he spoke again Ren thought he detected a frosty bite to his voice, like the very first sunset in winter.

  
“…Shall I find others then?”

  
“No. Don’t tell me you’re this dense, James.” There was a scrape of a chair and the shh-shh-shh of expensive shoes on carpet. “There _are_ no others. No perfect little Potential waiting in the wings. No, no, think of this party as a very expensive media stunt. A very expensive bauble from my daughter’s perspective.”

  
The waiter—James—paused even longer this time. “I don’t understand, Sir.”

  
“I didn’t expect that you would.” It came out cold and clear. “I appreciate the work you’ve done for my security, James. Truly, but your mind is a little too… artificial for my tastes. Try thinking beyond technology sometime.” There was suddenly a ring of metal, three distinct cracks like knuckles against a pipe. “You should know by now that you needn’t like a thing in order to use it.”

  
“…sir?”

  
“Magic,” came the answer and out in the hall four bodies froze once more. Pyrrha and Jaune traded a glance packed with an entire night’s worth of meaning. Nora found Ren’s hand again and held on for dear life.

  
There should have been some kind of consequence for speaking that word in the middle of the Schnee palace. Ren waited for the man to drop dead of some mysterious ailment; for the skies to darken and for lightning to flash. Nothing came though and within a moment he’d continued.

  
“My daughter thinks she can outsmart me,” the man said, something like a laugh curling into his voice. “Ah, I’m afraid she’ll need many more years under her belt before she can manage that. The fact that dear Weiss would attempt this game of manipulation so early…She always was a go-getter. I'm rather proud of her.”

  
Nora’s eyes had blown to the size of saucers. “That’s the princesses’ name,” she hissed as Ren nodded. His head felt heavy. Foggy. Like somehow during all this he'd been drugged. 

  
“…an heir,” the man said, part of his words lost to Nora’s. “I had thought at first that her _unnatural_ desires would be a problem, but no. I still have my Whitley.”

  
“Whitley is third in line,” James said; a weak protest.

  
“Only for now. As far as I am concerned Winter is dead and Weiss… well, I’ll let her have her fun. Marry some common girl and spread news of my progressive generosity. When she’s served her purpose I fear that my little girl will encounter some form of accident—one that is entirely untraceable. As said, you needn’t like a thing in order to make use of it. I’ll have _full_ use of that tool before I rid the world of its taint.”

  
The words were so blunt and casual that at first they hardly seemed real. A true laugh echoed throughout the room, though Ren would be hard-pressed to call it joyous.

  
“Don’t look so glum, James! Weiss has many years yet, I assure you. But we both know she’s not fit to rule. Eventually…”

  
“Whitley will be called forth,” James finished. It sounded more like a strangled cough.

  
“Exactly, my good man, exactly. I value your insight immensely—you know that—and when the time comes I may need your expertise just as much as my more…obscure contacts. For now all you need to do is observe the children.” Wine filled a glass and was set gently on wood. “Though I’ll tell you what, James: you can choose the bride. I know how fond you are of Weiss, so it’s in your best interest to find a girl I won’t consider too taxing, yes? If their union tires me I may have to move my plans up.” There was a pause as, presumably, the man drank. Ren just caught the smacking of lips. “I’m not being subtle, James. I trust you understand my meaning.”

  
“Yes, sir.”

  
“Very well. Then go find me a future daughter-in-law. I’ll make sure Weiss falls for whoever you choose.”

  
There was another pause and then footfalls heading towards the door. Ren, Nora, Pyrrha, and Jaune all scrambled to round the corner once more, but as they did there was one last exchange to catch:

  
“Oh, and James?”

  
“Sir?”

  
“Please don’t forget that I own you. I wouldn’t want my favorite toy to go blabbing this news to someone else.”

 

“...Of course, Your Majesty.”

  
Jaune tripped at the title and Ren only just caught him around the waist, hoisting him to safety. He didn’t know why James had let them overhear this conversation—what he might do if he saw them again—but Ren wasn’t willing to take the chance. He only risked one more look back and amidst the white of the walls he thought he saw a flash of light. Like something sparkling…

 

And then he saw it. Just for an instant Ren caught the gaze of a white-haired girl peeking out from the alcove down the hall.

  
She was crying and her tears glistened even from this distance. It was the last thing he saw before they were pelting back towards the ballroom and Ren stumbled, feeling blind.

  
_The Princess_ , he thought and urged his legs to move faster.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
